The Firly Manor Chronicles
by LitBlueEyed
Summary: Secretly operating out of Kakariko, Zelda plays Princess to mend a dead world. Meanwhile, Link, still lacking his memories, is unwillingly sent away from her to Hateno in hopes that he will rest. Yet, visions of ghosts haunt him and fester when the Princess's work brings her to his doorstep. Benevolent, the ghosts want to embrace her. But, she can't see them through her grief.
1. The House

The House

In the mountain village of Hateno, a small cottage sat away from the town just beyond the bridge over the Firly Pond. Limping in an hour after sunrise, Link, dismal, hood-up, ran into its auctioneer who was trying to save it from being torn down.

"Hey, traveler!" Link heard behind him. He stopped and cursed himself for doing so. He looked over his shoulder. A small man in a wide-brimmed hat was running after him, waving a poster. "Lookie, here! How would you like to buy Hateno's most treasured home?" The man paused, looking down at Link's clothes. They spoke for him: grass-stains blotched the knees of his pants and his elbows; blackened crisps lined the hem of his tunic and ate away at its length. Blood was drying at his bicep, he'd have to dress the bandage again. The week's grime sat stiffly on his flaking skin; his mouth tasted like mud.

"Good gods, boy." The man said, "Do you need a healer?"

Link shook his head and wiped the dirt turned up from his mouth. He turned to leave, feeling too tired for smiles and pleasantries.

"Look here, folks!" The man blurted out. "This traveler here is heading straight to the auction at the inn! Follow him!" Link heard behind him. He didn't realize he was heading that way. A small crowded bustling about the town center swallowed him. Exhausted, he let himself be pushed, pulled, and bumped around.

"E-Excuse me, s-sorry." He apologized, just trying to make his way through to the village's edge. There, the path would dissolve into a hike into the lush hills where the lab sat. Sifting through the crowd, he found himself anxious for the company of the scientists inside, Purah and her assistant Symin, where there was a lot to listen to and little pressure to say anything. A night with them amplified the voice in his head that spoke with so much encouragement, making this burdensome task ahead of him seemed doable. Maybe the pair would offer him a bath, a cup of coffee, and a meal like last time, though he did not want to assume or impose.

The crowd surged from the market. Children-maybe brothers and sisters by the look of their uniform red hair-were up to their noses in summer flowers, selling bouquets to people walking by. Dogs ran between the legs of a poor milkmaid spilling their pitchers of milk, then darted for a set of young boys who ran plates of meat between the butchery stalls. "Beef Flanks!" Yelled a butcher, "Get 'em hot! Beef flanks! Roast Duck!" In front of Link, a young boy with curly blonde hair yanked a large dairy cow on a red rope, losing his family in the crowd. The cow, decorated with a silly red bow around his neck, mooed indifferently. People stared.

To the people of Hateno, which acquainted Link upon his first arrival weeks before, travelers and nomads were rare to see. Locals rarely traveled beyond Fort Hateno . Monsters, age-old guardians, beasts, and legends of angry ghosts haunted the outer-lands. Memories of pouncing bokoblins, spiked clubs, and thrashing around through the dusk swallowed Link. He was glad that they were safe. He wanted them to be safe. Most Hylians-well, most of the small thousand Hylians that survived the disaster one hundred years ago-clung to towns. In a book out of the shelf of a researcher at Fort Hateno, Link learned that Hyrule Proper once consisted of ten major towns and twenty other settlements. Now, there were only two and both-Hateno and Lurelin-barely qualified as towns. Travelers who traversed between the two and to the regions beyond never lasted long.

When Link had first come to Hateno, he had met a beggar woman waiting for her son to come home from Hyrule fields. With some hot tea and a skewer cooked on the fire beside her, she had coaxed Link into sitting with her for a few minutes. Link sat on her Hateno-teal blanket by the village's entrance while she mused over stories, the steam of the tea snaked around her face. Her sharp tan cheeks pulled into a smile as she insisted that he, her son, would be back any day now. Apparently, she had been saying that for years. He had only heard this from a bystander.

Now the only way to get around the crowd was to approach the inn. But, Link needed to part the long line of villagers trailing down its stairs and into the courtyard, all holding luxury goods, items, or livestock. A cucco popped from a woman's basket and nipped at the weave. There, ahead of the woman with the chicken, scampered the small auctioneer with his wide-brimmed hat. He set-up a display board of the house. "Behold the Firly Manor!" He beamed. He shot a finger at a giggling couple arm and arm."Lovebirds! How about buying a house?" They laughed. Apparently, the town had been trying to sell this house for two years, but to no avail. Link found himself listening, but their bantering soon fell away with the shouting of vendors, some laughter from all around, and the banging of pots, pans, and other wares for sale.

Link tried to make himself go, but now that he had stopped and the weariness set in. Could he make it up the hill? He couldn't move. The crowd settled in around him while the auctioneer presented the display of the house and all he could do was look up at the display. He knew the house. He had seen it time to time during his visits. The illustration was spot on: bridge, wood shelter, apple trees all around, a two-story home with paneled windows, wood, stone, stucco, and a long chimney snaking high up above it. The illustrated bated him into wondering what it was like to live in a place of his own. He had been running since waking up a few months ago. What would it be like sitting by the fireplace every night with a book? He wondered how long it could take to turn the wood shelter into a stable and maybe supply it with hay. Behind it, there was a pond and a grand oak tree. He thought about the bark on his bareback, laying up against it while untying his boots. What if he put his feet in the water? Could he take time to enjoy the rustling of crickets around him? What about sitting in a room of still, undisturbed air?

When the auction started, Link pinned his eyes to the ground, pretending his fantasies were not his own, and turned to make his way out of the crowd, but it was too thick. His eyes watched the ground beneath him for an opening to step through, but there was nothing. Beside himself, his ears were listening to the crowd.

"One thousand rupees!" A woman pipped up behind him. Sigh. That was low-too low. It made him weak. He could shuffle that much in minerals he had saved from his trip up Death Mountain. He had three times as much on him. He could participate if he wanted to. Cursing himself, he tried to push away his feelings. What a senseless purchase a house would be right now. He listened for the voice for wisdom, but nothing came except an image. The house was a cliff off the ocean. If he stared at it long enough, he knew he would jump from it. He was getting used to the thought. Could he really buy it? Could he really dive?

The auctioneer bated him, "do I hear a fifteen hundred?" Crazy. He could not do it. Yet, the mysterious, slow-crawling, shy, and sheepish want of a place among families and homesteads deepened in him like a rock sinking in the river.

"Two thousand," called a man from the front. Thick went the want; it was solid inside of him. He shook his head as a last protest, but the wind picked up like a tease and he succumbed to a powerful desire for a place that was not blowing his hair in the eyes.

"Going once?"

The heat of the fleeting moment, racing like a horse on fire, fried out any remaining reluctance. The ax was coming down, but Link's hand rose for the house and all stared at him in the middle.

"What do you say, traveler?"

"Uh," he swallowed, "I-I can do t-three thousand."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Purah was an esteemed researcher, not a babysitter. This, she told herself in flattery-yes, she was all that good despite her age, size, and unfortunate child-like appearance. She told herself this to focus; her mind was wandering from her work. She had a job to do and mothering a quiet boy-hero was not a part of it. Before she knew it, she was taking some pliers to the underbelly of the Sheikah slate, which Link had lent on his way over. Her heart was thumping. Symin kept saying things like, "careful, you will get smile lines!" and "haven't seen you smile like that in years!" but she pretended not to hear him. Apparently, the Princess-pretty smart gal she was-found a way to use stasis on food sources and thought it would be legendary to use it as a preserving agent on food that spoils quickly.

She was performing an autopsy on the slate when that worry crept in again-no, she shut it up and centered herself on some notes Zelda had written in a packet sent on with Link. " _Beloved Purah_ ," Cursive-of course she wrote in cursive; no one had written in cursive for a hundred years. " _I cannot tell you how happy I was to receive your letter and how much I want to see you and argue with you over theories like we used to. Impa tells me that you've become younger, so I fear I'd lose every argument with your reborn energy."_ She gave a laugh and continued, " _humor me, I have some thoughts to run by you on our stasis idea._ " The letter wrote on. The princess was fixated on the use of water and how long-term stasis could not occur without it. Of course, she was relying on Link in the shrine of resurrection for her hypothesis, but any explanation of that high level of technology was beyond them, as it was inscripted in Ancient Hylian and, therefore, practically dismissed as magic. However, the princess was not convinced. Poor girl. In her last letter, she had mentioned something about trying to learn the ancient language.

She's just trying to fill her time without-well, Link. Shoot, Purah was looking out the window when she realized she was thinking about him again. Funny, they sky was threatening to spill with rain. That's when the worry deepened-Link, alone, in that odd house, while the weather outside was dark and dreary again. What a start to a vacation-poor Link. Being forced to take one only to have the first week washed out.

Na-ah! Work time! She pinned her focus to a minuscule bolt that guarded the chamber that controlled the duration of the stasis in the slate, "A researcher; not a babysitter." Yet, looking like a child and worrying like a babysitter gave an ironic charm that was attractively symmetrical to the researcher, and she wasn't one to turn down good irony. She reread the end of Zelda's letter, " _Lastly, if you don't mind, I ask that you to visit Link often . And, if you could be so kind, please deliver Impa's letter addressed to him enclosed in the packet. She'd appreciate it if you delivered it to him after his first week there. Bless you and hope to see you soon, Zelda."_

Well, Purah thought to herself, everyone loves a young, pretty babysitter. She let out a long breath. Hey, she needed a break anyways. That visit could be now. Beaten out, she pushed away the slate, plopped off her stool, and checked the window. How long did they have before it would rain?

"Symin,' she called pulling a coffee mug to her mouth and sipping, "What do you think of visiting Link in his new house?"

Link did not notice the rain until it was pouring down on his bare backside and soaking the wood beneath him. Water slid down his shoulders; the sudden coolness stirred up chills throughout his arms, bringing sense back to his body. He realized he was unpleasantly hunched over, his shoulder was aching, and that there was a bruise swelling up above his wrist. He looked up from his hands, impossibly red in the cold downpour, and finally saw the dark expanse of clouds running over him. He released his hold on the hammer and nail, swallowed what felt like rivers-the air was practically water-and looked for Epona who had taken shelter underneath the apple tree in front of the house. He met her underneath it.

His side and the wound that resided under his ribs protested, but he managed to heave himself onto a branch in reach of a low hanging apple. Epona neighed him on and nodded her grand head at the snap of the fruit's stem. Apple in hand, he got down and brought it to her mouth and patted her brawny nose as she munched down. At the sound of distant thunder, he went for the ropes at the foot of the tree and tied a halter around her fluffy ears and face. Come on,' he nodded, Epona reciprocated, and the two trotted to the firewood shelter to beat the rain before it turned to hail as it had on their way up the mountain days before. He tied her on a loose line to the post he had installed that morning, then gave her a strong nose rub. The sound of patter intensified. Thunder boomed; thankfully she was as cool as a cucumber and began munching on the grass beneath her. Good horse, thought Link. She was practically unphased. He squatted beside her and looked out towards the backyard where the downpour was drenching the beginnings of a pasture. He'd have to finish it tomorrow.

The Firly Manor-as Bolson so eloquently called it-sat in its own world. The bridge at its entrance, Firly Pond and its bass deep below, guarded the home from the new line of Bolson's housing that spread across the other side of the hill. Larger hills, laced in spongy jade and blue grass that made up the great foothills of Mount Lanayru cradled the cottage and woodshed that composed the manor. Everywhere felt the wind, strong and icy when coming from the north, especially on rainy days such as these. Beneath the bridge was the only safety.

Beneath the bridge, down the ten-foot cliffs, where the grass slid into the mud-bottom pond, the air was usually still and the ground was warm-when it was not raining, of course. One visit to Hateno, pre-defeating the calamity when he was half-sick and sleep deprived, he decided to rest his eyes down there in the shade for an afternoon. There, he fell into a deep sleep that he later quit when he remembered that he-out of all people-had a bed to actually call his own. Unlocking the door was almost thrilling, entering was numbing, but in a way one would like. He could not believe the silence and the still air inside. No wind. Nothing was blowing at him. He could hear himself breathe, his heart thumb, and the wood floor creak under his footsteps when he removed his muddy boots and climbed the stairs. The opaque moonlight flooded pale light into the bedroom. He had been gazing at the hay-filled bed when words started filling his head, all saying, "rest" in a choir of tones and urgings that felt so familiar to him. He couldn't understand the words at the time, but the occasion of being on vacation had him revisiting the moment to realize the importance of those words. Thinking of Impa and her words now, "set a good example for the Princess and take a vacation," Link wondered if this-working in the rain-is what vacation was supposed to look like. He rubbed at his bruise.

"Ah-hoy!" Cried out a voice-sounded like Purah. Seeing her and Symin appear from the rain and the mist, he ran out to them with a shirt in tow and held it over the assistant's head. Apparently, Purah hadn't thought to share the umbrella.

"My boy, have you grown taller?"

"Link!" Purah squealed, she was shouting over the rain, "Snap! There are ladies around. Make yourself decent!"

"Not so fast, dear Purah," said Symin upon a shiver, "His shirt is put to good use at the moment." Link rushed them inside where the muggy warmth and the sound of pitter-patter on the tin roof greeted them. The inside was a wide open space naturally hushed by the dark ambiance of a stormy afternoon, which made one feel like napping or curling up with a book by the fireplace. Around were white, bare walls, rich, red oak beams, and pale, freshly mopped floors. A patient, old oak table sat in the middle of the room in between two benches topped with the checked pillows. Plates, cutlery, and books sat atop the table's surface. Somewhere something was dripping-yes, in the far right corner. He retrieved a bucket to catch the water.

"You know," Commented Purah, inspecting the place. "I've never thought you'd be a neat freak. But this place actually looks good."

"And, you've got furniture!" Symin was particularly affirming, "And is that a sofa? Sir Link, do you mind if we?" Link gestured for them to sit before retrieving some quilts and a dry shirt from the upstairs bedroom."Oh don't worry yourself," he added when Link stooped low into the hearth of the fireplace with some wood and flint.

"No, let him." Purah added, "Fires are warm." She bundled herself into a quilt without care of dampening them with her wet clothes. She made her way to the wooden table and fixed her hands on a blue porcelain jar for the bundle of warm safflina blossoms within, "So how's vacation going, Linkie?" She dumped spare water from a pitcher and then the blossoms into his teapot, hopped off the stool, and headed towards the fireplace. Was she making tea? Symin, sandwich-wrapped in a blanket was helping himself to the bookcase in the nook of the house underneath the stairs. "This is a pleasant place, Link. Well done! I like the chairs you put in here. But, I'm afraid that they may be made out of hay and I don't quite like hay." He sneezed. The sound of Purah struggling stole his attention and he helped her reach the hook above the fire, "Why thank you, my gentleman."

"Hey, Purah! Sir Link's got an Encyclopedia of Hateno Plants."

"I'll be taking that temporarily. Where did you even get that? Did it come with the house?" Thunder rolled on by, hushing the room into silence. It would be a while until the rain would let up, wouldn't it? Link was thinking of meal options he could prepare for the three of them when Purah looked up with a suspicious glower. "I know that look," said Purah, sitting him down on the sofa, "Don't worry about preparing for us. I already saw your cupboard of hanging meats and the cheese you had wrapped up. Thought I wouldn't find it, huh?"

He didn't know what to say.

"We mustn't intrude, dear Purah."

"What plans does he have?" She teased, looking furtively over her shoulder for Link's reaction. There was nothing. Purah huffed, pressing a finger to her cheek, "You are less talkative than usual. Tell you what, we will take care of dinner." She tossed him an envelope. "You read this."

' _To Link_ ', it read. He looked up at Purah for an answer.

"From Impa." She said, moving the stool to the fire. She reached up for the teapot and held it with a rag. "So, you see ghosts?"

His blood ran cold: he dropped the letter.

"Purah, did you read the letter?" Cried out Symin from the nook.

"What of it?" She said, pouring out the hot tea into three cups. "It is my right as the carrier. So, tell me-when did it happen? What are the ghosts like? Did other people see them? Or are you going crazy? Is that why they kicked you out of Kakariko?"

He watched her press forward; she was waiting with hands on her cheek, eyes locked on him; he had to look away. He excused himself to the loft and made his way up there stairs. There, he sat on his bed, opened the envelope, unfolded the letter, and read.

" _Dear Link, I write to you the day before your departure. You are quieter than usual today-so focused on your horse's pack. If I didn't know you any better, I'd assume that you were a paranoid packer. I wonder if you are distracting yourself. I certainly hope you do not resent me for sending you away."_ Link sat with her words before moving on.

" _If you do, I suggest you come off it and begin to enjoy yourself. I know how tough it was for you to confide in me about apparitions you've been seeing here. But, it confirmed for me that you maybe need some rest, which, as you know from my recent nagging, I am happy to give to you. I hope the princess will follow suit; but I don't think it likely after the all-nighter she pulled last night drafting agreement letters for the two dozen Rito she plans to commission as postmen. I suppose I am to blame for that in sending her only friend away to Hateno."_ Friend. He repeated the word in his mind. Something inside him brightened. Bringing the letter closer to his face, he tried to read the rest of the letter. But, an afternoon from weeks ago crept in. Princess Zelda was asking him how much he remembered her; she was rubbing a shiny red apple between her thumbs.

He read on, " _In regards to the postmen, some of them I like-namely Teba, his son Tulin, and their string of cousins who are proper and well-behaved and diligent in learning the profession of their ancestors.. Apparently, during the Age of the Great Sea, the Rito were the sole perpetrators of mail and delivery. The princess told me so in her sleep just now. My copy of Hyrulian History is open on her face. I suppose I should move my old body from my desk and get the covers up over her. Regardless, I'd expect a postman to come to find you sometime soon. In the meantime, please enjoy yourself, sleep for the both of you, and don't let Purah and Symin bully you. Sincerely, Impa._

He turned the letter over in his hands; that was all. Thunder boomed; Purah shrieked below. "Sorry! Sorry!" She called out. Everything was fine, so Link's let his attention wander out the window where the mist was clearing beyond the bridge. The colorful roofs of Bolson's new line of houses appeared with the apple trees. The vivid red fruit slowly emerged, bringing back that afternoon on Kakariko hill and the apple between the princess's hands. The sun had just knelt between the cloud coverage; light was all over the valley. Her chin lifted; their eyes met; she was sure on hearing him: how much do you remember?

Something about her strong expression, coupled with relaxed shoulders and a nodding head, built her up to look as if she was ready to take any answer he had to give-no matter what it was. He wondered if he was imagining the peace in her demeanor because the topic had wracked hell on him for months. Who was she? He was endlessly thinking, pushing himself to remember memories that would not come. The greatest consequence was not her displeasure-although he was at first afraid of making her sad-but, she affirmed that she was fine with a hero with no memories of her and he believed it. What truly haunted him was the fact that history-dealing with his own heart and world-was out there, staring at him in the face; but, he could not see it. How does one forget a whole world?

Pulling himself back, he folded Impa's letter back into the envelope and tried to get up and make his way down the stairs. But, the disappointment of the truth caught up to him again: he really didn't remember much. Maybe he had some sparse memories of her and him, the champions, and maybe a few other things relating to the royal guard. So much remained a mystery, especially when it came to her. Naturally the importance of it had him up at night-whether he was in an inn or tent or open field looking up at the stars- when all the tasks of the day were done and he was left by himself to think. Who was Princess Zelda? Well, he knew who she was! He had even known her voice before The Calamity's defeat, but the feelings ascribed to knowing her were missing. It had him hyper-aware and incredibly self-conscious whenever she was around. It made him see the apple between her hands as therapy because it gave him something to look at when he couldn't stand her eyes and his wordlessness.

Her tone was so sincere; she furrowed her brows as if on a mission; her hand was so powerful on her shoulder. Perhaps she knew what he was thinking; maybe not. But, she smiled and tossed him the fruit with a laughing 'cheer up.' He caught it right before his face. Disbelief colored his cheeks. You know, the endless thinking and wondering had not readied him for her to be this kind; or to be the kind of person to check on him everyday in the inn while he was recovering; or to invite him out to walks to see how he was doing. Funny, she soon dozed off when she let herself sit against the apple tree, a place where she suddenly looked incredibly tired. She was out in five minutes. Coming back to the envelop in his hands, Link thought about the all-nighters and frowned.

Within the hour, Purah called for dinner and Link joined the duo down by the table and warm candlelight. Thunder rolled on from far away.

"This is what we get to earn summer," Said Symin. "Sir Link, my boy, you going to eat something?" Honestly, he wasn't all that hungry for once, but there was the meat, the slab of cheese, and a variety of steamed vegetables around him. He took some into his plate..

"So," Purah started, stabbing into the meat, "Ghosts?"

"Don't pressure him, Purah. Can't you see he's uncomfortable?"

"And, I'd be too if I got sent away for speaking up about it." She spoke with a mouth full, "but we've got to train him on the concept of dinner conversations and no boring topic or small talk will do the trick. Oh, don't look at me like that. Was it ghosts or poes?"

"Sir Link?" Chimed in Symin, pushing him a quill and some paper, "Perhaps it would help if you wrote it down?"

"Always giving him the easy way out." Droned the researcher. Link began to write, "Just say something. Is it really all that hard? It's fine if you stutter, I don't care."

Symin looked over Link's shoulder and translated, "I...don't…..want….to...talk...about it. Hmm. Sir Link?" He then questioned, "if your going to write everything you say, I strongly suggest you work on your handwriting. Your 't's' look like 'x's.'" Link found himself mid-glower when Purah's expression changed. She looked away to hide it, but for a moment, she looked compassionate.

"I am an esteemed researcher," She muttered, refilling the party's tea cups. "but I can be a mother if you want me to be. I have tons of energy to do it too."

Soon there was knock at the door. "Who could that be? Oh Link!" Fussed Symin, "Let me open the door, it must be awfully hard to answer without talking." But, Link excused himself and opened the door. A tall ruffly creature stood outside and came into the light as a Rito youth with a blue-green parcel bag slung over his broad shoulder.

"Master Link!" White feathers-this had to be Tulin, Teba's son! He clasped a hand on the youth's shoulders-he was shivering-and rushed him inside, signing to Symin for another plate and cup of hot tea.

"Oh, it's a postman!" Cheered Purah. "What's your name?"

Link escorted the Rito to the fire, noticing how much the boy had grown.

"Tulin." Chimed the youth, fanning out his feathers, "I've come from Kakariko, bringing a letter for Link." He reached into his bag, pulled out a cherry envelope, and placed it in Link's hands. Zelda's handwriting, thought he.

"How sweet."

"How was your first journey, my boy?" Mused Symin, raising a cup for him to hold between his feathers. "Sit, sit!"

"Crazy." He took a seat on the bench, taking the hot cup to his chest "Hateno-not a great flying route. Spring time for the mountain and the ocean mess with the wind! Yet, father thought I could handle it."

"And, that you did!"

"Link, my father sends his regards. How are you feeling?"

To that, Purah held up his piece of paper of t's that looked like x's, and teased. "He doesn't want to talk about it."

To the Rito, he gave a sincere smile. He didn't have the words, but he was glad to see him. He couldn't have been more than thirteen, and he was already assisting his father. Link attempted to answer, "I-I've been fine."

"Goddesses! He speaks!"

"Purah, stop teasing Sir Link in front of guests."

"Buddy!" she pointed her fork Tulin-ward, "How often can you come around? We haven't gotten him to speak all day! Shall we all be blessed with luck? We've heard the boy speak!"

Link set a full plate in front of the boy, thinking about the letter.

"So you are Purah!" Tulin dug his wing back into his bag, pulling out another cherry envelope letter, "The princess wrote you too." He handed her the paper. She took it fiercely, ripped open the seal, and glanced it over twice-through.

"How's the princess doing?" Asked Symin. "We've all been dying to know!"

"Good!" He said, a little too loud. "She's-uh-really impressive!"

"Interesting," Purah hummed. She read a portion aloud, " _According to some recent visitors, a researcher and his assistants from Fort Hateno, Hateno's population will most likely double in the next year. Now that the Calamity is no more, people are beginning to travel and migrate to new communities. Hateno, because of its farming advances and new market, has become a buzzword. Wonderful that people are free and spirited, but, I fear the village is not ready to receive so many people."_ She stopped, furrowed her brows, and leaned in closer to the paper. "And I was just beginning to like the silence. Oh!" she squealed. Out from the letter came what looked like blue-prints. "What could this be? Don't tell me she's decoded the Ancient Hylian?" She went after them like a wolf on a herd of sheep.

"Who? The Princess?"

"Yes, Symin. She's a closet genius."

"I'll say!" Piped the Rito.

"You blushing, my boy?"

"Wha? No, of course not. Just warming up!"

"Apparently, she's planning a trip to the shrine of resurrection to get a reading on the sheikah server. Goddess, I wish I could go with her."

"What's she doing that for?"

"The princess is onto something about water and stasis." She said, half occupied by the blueprints. "Damn, she's going to study the shrine tomorrow! I think she wants to study how it preserved Link for a hundred years. Damn it! Quit beating me, Princess!"

"My boy?" Asked Symin, patting the fuming researcher on the head, "What do you think of the matter regarding Hateno?"

"The researcher she mentioned." He stopped to pause, "I think he's a little sketchy. Made me call him 'Dr.' when Hyrule's been without a college for a century. But, we Rito are seeing more people on the roads these days. I don't know, but I think the Princess is worried. I think she wants to use the sheikah technology to help the town.

"Snap!" Purah slapped the dinner table, pilling a tea cup. Symin rushed in with a rag, "Well, we have to get to work! Symin, you ready to go? Bye Link and friend-Tulin was it? It was so nice seeing you." She was practically out the door.

"But, Purah, everything will get soaked! It's dark-can't we leave in the morning? If that's okay Lin-?"

"Did I say that when we had to flee Kakariko when the Calamity hit?"

"I wasn't there!"

"P-Please," Link pushed himself to say. He invited them all-especially the Rito-to stay the night and showed Purah to the loft. With Symin's help, he laid two spots on the sofa and a place for him by the fireplace. Not before long, the house was filled with snoozing and snoring.

Purah had demanded him to get some sleep, but Link remained by the candlelight on the table, sitting on the bench, peering down at the Princess's letter between his palms. He read the cursive address, " _Dear Link_ ," He imagined her slumped over in her chair at her desk, letting tea beside her go cold. How was she doing? Did Impa tell her about the apparitions? He let out a breath and thumbed through the cherry envelope, opening the letter.

* * *

Edit: 02-19-19


	3. Surprise

Surprise

The sound of barking stirred Link from his sleep, but heavily his eyelids weighed. An ache in his shoulders pushed him deeper into slumber. But, was he upright? He couldn't be standing, could he? His back weighed too heavily on his hips for him to be laying down. Oh, his back craved a surface to sprawl over-where to lay down? Where to lay down? A terrible chill ate at his skin; he tried to hold himself, but a mysterious paralysis held his arms above him, so he shook and shivered, feeling like his heart would jump out of his chest.

Noise crawled its way into his ears, yet he had not realized it was there or what it was saying until moments later: A voice, "Good boy, Ren, you found him." His focus shaped around the mysterious chattering. He received it like a small child presenting an empty plate to a cook, but the meats of his dreams were missing and the pang of hunger grew just as loud as the voice beside him: "Give 'em your coat." It said, or did it? Yes, for sure there was someone talking close by, and another voice was answering. A soft weight fell onto his shoulder and the blood under his skin relaxed. Warmth. He sighed. The relief knocked him off balance. "Ollie," withered the first voice, "Help me, he's falling. I can't hold him up by myself." What felt like a hand grew out from his skin-had it always been there? It grasped at his waist and moved him forward. His legs were walking; ice ate at his heels. There was so much barking.

"And you're telling me we shouldn't wake him? Get Ren to hush up!" Vision slowly materialized; the color of the wooden floorboards emerged before he realized that his eyes were open. He watched the doorsteps pass underneath his dragging, bare feet as he passed through a doorway. The orange of a nearby firelight lit up his shins. Then, the air warmed.

"Just guide him back to his bed and get him warm," Withered the old voice who now seemed so real and recognizable. Link wanted to call her Grandmother, but was it Lasli's Grandmother? She had him call her that too as she was treating the gash in his side. Just then, Link's knees bumped the cushion of his soft mattress. Bed? His mind bent on receiving the bed before him with open arms. He soon found himself gripping the rim and falling into the fluff of the comforters. Relief! His body curled into a pillow, warmed from being underneath the mattress. Something like a candle light was snuffed out and peace fell upon the slumberer for what felt like a moment. But then he woke up. He sprung awake, calculating Grandmother's last words on his registry, "I'll tell Impa that Link's sleep walking again."

No one was around. He searched his room. He was in the innkeeper's quarters at the Shuteye Inn, Kakariko. Yes, this was his bed. His hands messaged the flannel covers that Impa had gifted him when Ollie first donated his room the night they had arrived from The Fight. He couldn't remember much of the ride home. Apparently, he had lost consciousness outside Kakariko on the horse. Thankfully, the Princess was at his back. Remnant reminders of the ride had him remembering him slipping from the saddle and the Princess's arm locking around his waist from behind. The reins were slipping from his grasp, but she someone she recovered them. He had been reliving the memory since waking up from the week and a half sleep.

A furtive breeze disturbed his thinking now, tracing its windy fingers through the hem of satin, beige curtains that separated the innkeeper's quarters from the main hostel. Silence fell on him like moonlight. His head hurt. How long was he out sleepwalking tonight? Where was Ren? Just then, the Hylian Shepherd, sat up and perched at the foot of his bed, wagging his tail with full expectation that Link would pet him. Link scratched his triangular ears, which flattened at his touch. Out went his tongue. Good boy. The dog jumped onto Link's bed and starred back with big yellow eyes, hoping for a rub down. He got it. Twice now he had saved Link from sleepwalking into the wintery Kakarikan night and waking up in the frost. Sleep walking, according to Impa, was a product of his restlessness, coping with the end of the Calamity and his duty. Sleepwalking went hand and hand with the restlessness. He would have beat himself up for not adapting quicker, but the old elder kept reminding him that it had only been three weeks since The Great Fight. But one-hundred years rested underneath it.

Moreover, he spent the first two weeks bedridden. That first week had him fading in and out of consciousness, subliminally trying to decide what day it was, where he was, and what had become of the world since blacking out on the horse. How hard he pushed himself to stay awake. It was like dangling from a cliff, the holds in the rocks, crumbling. The Princess-the hauntingly familiar stranger at his back. His mind clung to her in his sleep, materializing dozens of dreams that made up her fate, whether she had returned to the castle or somewhere near him. Was she okay? Was she sleeping? Was she drinking tea with Impa and the guards? Did she run away to Tabantha to teach young Rito how to fly using Cuccos like he had dreamed? That dream was the oddest. Needless to say, his sleeping mind build up dozens of realities, as he wondered what to expect from the world, the sheikah, and the Princess, whoever she might be. He wasn't entirely sure. Scratchy memories made her out to be both kind and harsh, confident and unsure, closed-up and vulnerable, and always self-sacrificing.

Sometimes, he dreamed that he had woken up. He was stepping out into the sunlight and could actually feel its heat on his cheek. He was lying down in a meadow and a hot cup of coffee was brought to him. Once, he had dreamed he had gotten up from his bed and painlessly walked to Impa's house to find the princess in her regal gown arm'n'arm with what looked like her child-self. Another odd dream. Dreams like these teased him. Even his hunger and thirst worked their way into the dreams, and he was left to wonder if he had really gotten up to get some food and water like he had dreamed; or if sustenance was put to his mouth by someone on the outside of his body. He wondered if that was her, but at that time, all he could see was the inside.

Some time into the second week, the wooden beams of the ceiling became realer than ever before. Surely, he was really looking up at them. He could even smell the oak and the musk of mildew. The sheikah symbols on the walls projected meaning that he could coherently follow: he was really in Kakariko. His first hello was the pain searing up from his side. Ganon's gash in his abdomen was intricately bandaged with a fabric that felt like animal hyde and smelled like medicine. Beside him, bowls of hot water, rag towels, and dried herbs in glass jars sat all askew, marking the evidence that someone had been there. Ren perked up, Grandmother-Lasli's grandmother-came in through the curtains and locked eyes with him. Suddenly, she was whooping in excitement, then running out of the inn, announcing that he was awake.

Ollie, the innkeeper was first in, asking him many questions he did not know how to answer-how are you feeling? Do you need anything? Do you like your bed? Do you need another pillow? He was trying to articulate one answer when the Princess stumbled in, taking all of his attention. Her-this was her-right here-right in front of him after so long-and she was huffing for breath as if she had been running. Grandmother trailed in behind her with a series of guards, exclaiming things like, "There he is!" and "He's awake!" and "Look Princess! He's fine! Just as we said! No need to worry!" Laughter was something to choke up. Some people were clapping. "There he is!" The Princess-this was her! Really, before him, not a dream. Did he say anything to her? Did she say anything to him? He couldn't remember much besides seeing tears coming up out of her eyes and her hands fiercely rubbing them away.

"P-Princess?" He managed to say-but, that was all. How silly he must have sounded. Next thing he knew, Paya was there and she was blushing, trying not to look at his thrashed chest and the bruises all over his arm. Next, Impa came in wobbling on a cane and shooed them all away.  
"But, Impa," said Princess, wiping her eyes, resisting Paya's tugs on the overcoat that she must have borrowed from the sheikah. "He's finally awake! Let me stay!"

"You know where you should be!" Impa called out, waving her cane. Link found himself watching her leave when Impa, easing herself down in the rocking chair beside his bed, began to speak, "Don't think I'm being too harsh," she said, "She's been avoiding sleep like the plague. Believe it or not this is the third time she's snuck out of her room." Apparently, she had visited frequently. Grandmother told him.

Now, by the looks of the half moon over the Kakariko hills, he had three hours until his shift. Cado, the guard, needed rest and a temporary replacement, and Link needed to ease the restlessness. Impa tried to talk him out of becoming a guard earlier in the week, but knew it would be in vain. "Link, take your time resting." She had said, taking the sheikah hat from his coat rack, looking frustrated. Her old, heavy-lidded eyes lost themselves in the wicker weave, "Why can't you children rest? I don't want to hear anything more about the world needing you. The world had you. And, now it's giving you back. I wish you both would live like it."

Impa's scowl had followed him around the grounds all week, but he did compromise at the low level responsibilities, which consisted of turning out the horses, walking the fire lines, scouting the roads three times a day, and surveying the high grounds each morning and evening. From on top of the hills, he saw an influx of travelers roaming the roads for Castle Hyrule. Rumors were spreading. The Dark Haze had vanished. People were going to see it for themselves. With word spreading so fast, he and the Princess probably had another week of solitude before someone spotted them through their sheikah disguises and brought them to the public. His eye fell onto his sheikah hat across the room.

If he had three hours until duty, he probably shouldn't risk another sleepwalking episode. Perhaps this was the time to say up. He excused himself from the golden pooch, pushed himself up from his bed, and went for his scabbard leaning against of the polished redwood dresser in the corner of the room. Ren growled in suspicion, so Link turned around to assure the dog that he was awake and fine. Out went Ren's tonge, panting happily. He leapt off the bed and nuzzled Link's face as he set his equipment on the floor-a throwing spear, the Hylian Shield, the Lightbow, and a royal broadsword that accompanied him on and off guard duty while the master sword rested. Link retrieved an old rag and some solution from the cupboard and wiped down the neck of the blade, wondering if the sword was really speaking to him; words were coming to his head. Odd. Really odd.

Suddenly, thumps were felt in the floor and the door of the inn opened. The room went warm; unfamiliar voices filled the lobby in the next room. Then, there was hushed laughter. Funny, the inn didn't receive many Hylian visitors. Should he inspect it? Not without the disguise. Link pulled his tense shoulders into a sheikah overcoat, snagged the wicker hat from on top of the coat rack, and went out to check out the late night visitor. Link saw the blonde hair-Princess? Is that you?-but three blondes emerged into view: two young women and a child.

Judging by the look of them-turtlenecks, wet overcoats, ripped stockings, greasy aprons, muddy boats, taking off their cloaks-he wondered if they had been traveling all night. Odd that they had come through Kakariko. Maybe they could pay in the morning? They were setting their traveler's backpacks at their feet when Link came into the room. Suddenly, all three were staring, pinned up with some sort of emotion that he could not place. Did he know them? They, him? Ollie wasn't at his chair. What to do? Hesitating, Link took over the desk and retrieved the brochure of bed rates that Ollie kept in the second desk drawer. He attempted to smile in hopes of seeming hospital and handed the brochure to one of the girls, who seemed more settled into herself, somewhat careful to approach him. Maybe shy? She said something, but Link could only catch a few words and assumed she had said, "thank you." Link observed the two others speaking, and he wondered what they were saying-well, were they saying anything at all? Suddenly he wasn't so sure. It occurred to him that Ren was missing; maybe he ran out?

The blonde-well, they were all blonde to an extent, but the who was most fair with cropped bangs peaked over at him. She was shorter than Shy Woman. The Blonde's cheeks were thicker than the other woman's whose face was sharper with delicate cheekbones, which carved out a quieter expression. In contrast, the Blonde's cheeks burned rosy with her button nose, lighting her up to look as if she was gleeful, somewhat ready to laugh. At him? Maybe his hair was messy from sleepwalking? He brushed his bangs nervously.

The taller girl, the Shy One who he had handed the brochure to, began to speak, but it was just-incoherent. Perhaps they were from the otherlands? Their dialect was either too hard or too soft on his ears; he could not decide which. "Friends" and "travelers" were few of the words he caught. He assumed he meant her company-the Blonde and the Child-behind her-especially when the two others looked up and smiled at him. Just then, the Child jumped in, pointing at the soft beds on the brochure in the Shy One's hands, saying something that sounded in between, "I want this one," and "I wanna feel the covers!" It was weird that he could understand that much, but her smile made it seem less so. Link nodded and pushed himself through the pain to draw up their bags.

"You're handsome!" He practically dropped the bags. He heard that loud and clear. Should he pretend like he didn't? "Handsome-prince!" She chanted "prince, prince, prince" in a string of other unknown words. The other girls scowled at her; the Blonde looked at him apologetically. No, no, it's fine, he thought, dismissing her efforts. The Child was dancing around him now, picking up one of the bags in step. Link grabbed the two remaining bags and guided the other women into the dormitory.

"Prince! Hero!" Chanted the little girl again, going for his hands, but the Blonde scooped her up in dumped her on the top layer of a bunk. The Shy One, unfolding her long honey hair from her collar, looked to him and gestured to Link's hair and clothes, "sheikah?" was the first word he caught. The next was, "Hylian?" Oh, yes, he was Hylian-what could he tell her though? He didn't want to say much more. How to change the subject?' But, then the other two began snickering-poking the Shy One in the arm. The Child threw the bunk's blanket at the woman, landing its woven sheikah symbol right on her head, and turned her shoulders out for Link to see and laugh. "She sheikah before!" He didn't know how to respond-he felt like he was missing something ironic-but their relationship to each other warmed him.

Link bowed to excuse himself, but then the Blonde spoke up, "No need to hide." To hide? Then, the Shy Girl gently lifted the hat from his head, letting his hair come down over his neck. Next thing he knew, the Blonde's hand was on her shoulder. Her mouth was moving, but he heard no sound-was she even speaking? "Hero," he finally heard. Suddenly, sound was everywhere-crickets, voices beyond the four of them, and barking somewhere off in the distance. Weird, so weird. Alarm heightened in him, but the women were unphased, now all watching him, as if they had been for a very, very long time. Their expressions-somewhere between urgent and grateful-bore into him like water in his lungs. Cold set in, somewhere the wind picked up. He looked deep into the Blonde's eyes. Something about the blue set into him and communicated something beyond what his own emotions could grasp. He saw Princess Zelda inside for a moment, then fell into the memory where she was upset, pushing him when he had followed her to a shrine. "We are looking for our friend," they said as clear as day, as if in a whisper, audible even amidst the barking. Ren? Where was he?

"Please take us to find her," were their last words. But the barking! Barking was everywhere. Ren? Down, Ren! Crash! Glass shattered! Glass from a vase lay scattered on the floor before him, catching the light of an early morning coming through the window. From a daze he watched dogwood blossom ride the small pool of water as it crawled out from the shattered pieces and seep into the cracks in the wood. Where did the vase come from? He looked up from the floor to find himself suddenly in the lobby-not the dormitory-completely alone, the woman suddenly gone. Ren was whining.

Ollie materialized into his field of vision; next, the lobby desk in front of him. The dark wood walls, the mice-bitten floors, and the sheikah rug emerged. Yes, he was for sure in the lobby. The lobby? How did he get there? Had he knocked over the vase? What about those girls? Ren jumped at him, but the determined boy pushed through the dog's alarm and paced into the dormitory. It was empty; completely empty, no women, no bags, even the beds he had showed them to-even the bunk that the Child sat on-were pristine and pleated without any imprint. What? Had he imagined it all? Was he dreaming them? The words, "Please take us to find her," were too fresh on his mind and mouth, he couldn't help but repeat it to himself.

"Link? Sweetheart?" Someone was coming in through the doors of the lobby, "Ollie! Wake up! Oh, what happened to the vase?" It was Grandmother. He tried pushing himself to his feet, but collapsed in the pain of it. Grandmother peered out from the lobby archway to find Link struggling. "Link, sweetheart, what are you doing on the ground? We were worried when we didn't see you for guard duty." What time was it? The owl-faced grandfather clock in the dormitory showed a quarter to seven. How did three hours pass? "I see Ollie slept through your wake up call." Said Grandmother. "I assume you had a rough night." She gestured to the shattered vase. "Come on, let's get you dressed."

Grandmother asked no questions, but helped him up instead and drew up the curtains to his room where the equipment sat on the floor in the corner-the broad sword, the master sword, the Hylian shield, and the throwing spear all in a row. There was the rag; the bottle of solution had rolled away. Had he fallen asleep while cleaning? Surely, he hadn't. He didn't know.

From the drawers, Grandmother pulled out a dark blue tunic, beige sheikah overcoat, and trousers, all gifts from Cado and Dorian. "Do you think you still need me to help you get these on?" Link almost didn't hear her. "Something on your mind? Link, you present with the living, love?"

"I-I think," he thought for what he wanted to say, "I think I-I was s-sleepwalking."

"Yes, honey. But, we took care of it last night." He wasn't talking about last night, but now saw the opportunity to abort ship. He took the clothes from her. "You were looking for something outside the inn. Ren followed you out."

"I'm sorry." He said.

"Hey, take it easy." She said, "Now, you fix that lion's mane of yours! You've got to look nice today."

"H-How come?"

"Oh-you will find out, sweetie. I'm not allowed to say anything!" Link watched her suspiciously, especially as she started to excuse herself, "I'll be in the lobby cleaning up that broken glass. You think that would have woken Ollie up! I'm surprised I got him up to help me catch you last night."

Watching her go, he eased the dark blue tunic over him and pushed his tense shoulders into the overcoat. For, dressing was less painful in his dream. He flattened the fabric against the bandages at his torso, and secured the apple red button in the mirror. He watched himself for a moment and thought about all he could barely process at the moment. His mind fell on the Princess-how much the women from the dream looked like her-same look in the eyes, reaching in deep inside him. It was hard to feel-let alone describe. He put away the dream and, in the mirror, doubled his hair back into a lazy bun.

The Princess-would he see her today? What could he say to her? He stuttered through all "hellos" and found himself looking at the ground whenever he had realized that that he had been staring for too long. There was so much to say, but no way to really express it. Like always, he thought her brave for captaining moments like these, pushing through his wordlessness, starting conversations, and letting him listen. "Hey! Do you have a few minutes to spare?" She asked yesterday, early morning, tapping on his frosty bedroom window, "I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk with me." In conversations with the villagers, Impa, and the guards, she put forward a confident tone-sometimes sounding cocky but in a charming kind of way, upholding a sly smile in company. But, like the sun at sunset, Link didn't see that smile sinking until it was gone. She often frowned when she thought no one was looking. Was he the only one who saw it? He wasn't so sure. Maybe Impa was onto her too. He wished he could bring himself to ask, "how are you doing?' because he really wanted to know.

Ready to go, he secured his scabbard over his shoulder, grabbed his his shoes and hat, pushed past the curtains, went through the small wood dormitory, and stepped into the lobby where Grandmother was nudging the sleeping boy at his desk. Ren watched, hoping to get Ollie's rice ball if someone were to knock it over. Just then, the doors of the inn swung open with a bang!

"Link!" It was Dorian. Ollie erupted from his seat with a mighty snort. Up went his papers into to a flurry. He dove to retrieve them, knocking the rice to the floor and into Ren's mouth.

"Sorry Sirs." He said, chasing flying papers in full blush, "Grandmother? What are you doing here? Please, oh please, excuse me. Don't tell Impa."

"Boy!" Dorian shouted at Ollie, "You need to stop sleeping through the morning!

"If you could not shout s-sir," he stuttered sheepishly, "You'll wake up Link-oh, Link your up! Good morning Sir Link! Funny night we had last night."

"He missed morning surveillance!" Link went to help pick up the papers when Dorian caught his shoulder, "Link, it's the Princess!"

Dorian looked worried; Link's heart skipped at beat.

"Yes, we think something's wrong. Impa's house! Danger!" Link broke for the door, rushing out. Danger? So soon? What happened? He jumped into the Kakariko morning, his breath huffing a hot cloud into the cold air. Brisk, it hit him like wall that he had to push through. He ran down the steps of the inn and bolted for the house at the bottom of the glen where mid-winter was chilling the ground in a fresh layer of frost. Squirrels zipped through the emerald gloss for the abandon gardens on his left-no one was there to protect them; not even the early-rising farmers. Where was everyone? Birds sang out from the passing cherry blossoms, but only he were present to hear it.

He broke from his stride at the foot of the stairway, and pushed himself up the steps despite the pain that was now coming back to him. His stomach swelled, but he blew through the porch and threw the wooden door open with adrenaline-pumped strength. Danger! He went through the archway, assessing the safety of the scene when suddenly the happy expressions of dozens of people met him on the inside. He paused, looking at the smiles breaking open. Ren caught up to him. Danger?

"Surprise!" They yelled! Surprise? Two kids caught his legs and knocked him off balance; he fell back against the door when Dorians daughters leapt up into his view, laughing and smiling. Behind them, a small crowd of Sheikah people lined the perimeter of the room, standing to face him, beaming as if they were seeing the sunrise after a month of rain. The small dozen lined a set table as large as the room, low to the ground, topped in porcelain white cups, deep purple handkerchiefs, and jade cutlery that burned a warm red in the light of the lanterns above. Twinkling candles hung down. Cherry blossoms hung in clusters on the walls, creating a space that reminded Link of a mysterious springtime from long ago.

"Surprise, Linkie!" Cheered Koko at his knee.

"Lift me! Lift me!" Cottla jumped up. Link drew up her weight and held the small child, somewhat coping with the full brunt of honor coming off from the villagers who were now tossing sakura petals from small burlap bags- a sheikah celebration ritual for war heroes. He peaked out beyond the giggling child. There was the woman from the bow shop in the corner, Lasli, and a happy string of Sheikah people swaying back and forth, singing some sort of song that felt so familiar to him. Next, he saw the two farmers, carrying dishes to the table. Then, Impa sitting in the back middle of the room caught his eye and pointed to the door behind him where someone was rushing in.

In came the Princess, huffing and puffing like that first day in his room! Her eyes hit him like an arrow to a target; She jumped at him, "Link! Are you hurt?" Her hands gripped his cheek, then his shoulder, then against his side, then back on his shoulders. You're okay?" Link nodded nervously, suddenly hot and clammy. Her mouth cussed out relief! He saw her face sharpen as the scene set into her-the dozen villagers, the party, the streaming lanterns, the sakura petals on the ground. She faced the group angry, demanding an answer, "What's this?"

The door opened again-in came Dorian, Ollie, and Grandmother came in. "Were they surprised?" Asked Dorian, smiling like a ham. The Princess full on pushed him.

"Hey, what did you say to get them over so fast?" Said someone.

"The Princess is practically in tears!" Piped another.

"I told her what I told Link!" He said proudly, "Said the other was in trouble, of course! And they both took off running!" All booed him, "Hey! You guys told me to use whatever means necessary!" The booing turned to laughter.

Grandmother jumped out, "Dorian, if his wound opened up again, you'll have one to match!" Laughing went on. Sakura petals flew out and fluttered down like springtime smotherwings. The Princess anger burned red in her cheeks, cherry like the sheikan headdress she wore just above her green eyes. He saw so much of the three girls from his dream in her irises. Yes, the dream was on him like the princess's hands on his shoulder just now, pulling him in too close to see her. A long braid twisted out from behind her neck and fell down her back. She was dressed the same as him, but splashes of mud smeared the knees of her pants and she smelled like the forest. Her expression softened, letting out a soft sigh, her eyes watering. Cottla squirmed from Link's arms and ran for the princess's legs when meeting the floor. The Princess pulled him and the child near her. She slipped her arm into his, as if it was one hundred years earlier, during a ceremony, in the castle. Recalling the bare-bone memory of her in a crown, he forced a tight composure and a straight back. But, he couldn't face the crowd, so he just gazed at her hand on the crook of his elbow and found callouses.

He dared to look up. In the corner of the room, a hooded figure stood alone with a tea cup in hand, watching the scene go by. Who was it? Hadn't he known the whole village? Maybe they were visitors? Visitors. That word danced around him like the petals he had to peer through in order to see her. Weight bore down on him-he felt like falling-then, the pressure dissipated like valley mist. The room slowed; down came her hood, unraveling the blonde hair, revealing the strong eyes that were uncaring of his notice, but fully on the princess instead. Yes, this was the Blonde from his dream. No-this couldn't be a dream. She was practically a reflection of Princess Zelda in his arm, though with cropped bangs and pink and green ribbons running through her long hair. The Blonde-her eyes softened, smile burned between her cheeks in appreciation for the celebration going on around her. Something about her peace felt out of this world. She was watching the Princess when what he imagined to be her voice came to his mind, "Girls, I found her." The Princess watched the crowd unseeing, unhearing, "Girls, she's so beautiful."

"Sir Link, Princess Zelda." Impa took his attention. There, Link found the Shyer Girl, sitting beside with her head on the elder's shoulder. Impa continued unfeeling, "Excuse our insensitivity in getting you both here. Dorian, please don't traumatize our heroes. I hope you both don't mind, but we wanted to throw you both a mini-celebration before the word gets out even more. Please, let's eat and relax before the day's work." Next thing he knew, he was passing the Child to take his seat beside Impa and the mysterious visitor that no one else could see besides him. The little girl jumped about him and squatted next the Princess, looking into her eyes lovingly. No, the Princess couldn't see her, but instead drank from her tea cup and peaked over at him, knowing that he was looking. Worry rose up in her eyes.

Again the voice came to his mind, "Is she well?" Said the Child, the little girl was calling out to the others from across the room. Did they know Link could hear? "Her heart is beating really fast." Meanwhile, the party people were pouring out the tea! Steam went up like from a sauna. Off went the lids on top of the food-pumpkin stew, green onion garnished omelets, carrot cakes, beef skewers, sweetened rice balls on banana leaves, and a variety of fruits. People were digging in with hands and chopsticks, toasting to the New World

But, the girls were walking over him to get to the Princess; she still not seeing them. "Does she know we're here?" Said the Child. The Shyer One squatted down, trying to meet the Princess, eye to eyes. Her hands fell on her shoulders, but the princess did not show any signs of feeling. She looked right passed her, received a plate from Cado, and began to eat. The Blonde ran her hand through the Princess's hair, but her fingers went right through. She sat back on her heels and frowned.

Then, all three turned to him in defeat. He drew in his breath, wanting to retreat from their gaze, but suddenly the scene blurred out around them. A vivid orange light came in from somewhere, washing out their colors. Link cupped his eyes, and reopened to find himself in a new place. Gone was the party. Where was the Princess? Impa? The scene shaped into a lush hillside around him. Was it the Kakariko hills? Just over Lantern Lake? He heard the rushing waters and saw Kakariko underneath him. But no, they they were much higher. Brutal was the light, sparkling on the backsides of the three girls who were walking away from him. He looked passed them to see the world opening up around him: Castle Hyrule, Hateno, and Gerudo all in the same palm if he were to reach out into the grand view.

Wake up. Wake up. Company emerged behind him. The hair on the back of his neck rose. A hand fell on his shoulder. He turned to find a tall brunette staring into him as if she had known him for a long time. " _How we have missed you."_ Strong sunlight glinted on her crown; she bowed with reverence. Behind her, a half dozen others faded into color-all women in gowns of pinks, blues, and white, bowing. Why, he didn't know. The Brunette escorted him from the view and directed him towards the eastern edge of the hill, which overlooked Impa's house. The others joined him, all watching someone-Princess Zelda? And the guards? They were running down the steps. The Brunette, her hands on his arms, gently turned him around to face the apparitions and the sorrow and joy they expressed in a long, ageless stare. All drew near. The Child grabbed his hands. In came the Blonde, her hands on his shoulders; the Shy One held his forehead, leading the others to place a hand on him. All muttered something he couldn't understand, but it felt something like a prayer. There was a whisper, _"Bring her back to us."_

Then, there was barking! The ground disappeared from under him! Splash! Waves rolled over the apparitions; the world drowned out. Water fell in all around him and rolled over his head. He gasped it in! Water filled his lungs. He was choking! Sanke carp swam from him. There were furious tugs at his shirt, pulling him up to the surface. Ren's barking blasted his ears. People were shouting, "Get him out! He's asleep! Get him out!" He tried to push himself out of the pond, but two bodies beat him to it, jumping into the water beside him, hauling him out of the pond. Wet grass ran under his back; the cold frost met him on the ground; Ren was licking his face.

"He's breathing!" Cried the Princess, pushing her ear to his chest.

"Stay with us, kid!" Someone shook his shoulders. He was coughing up water when Kakariko closed in around him. He whipped up, flying into the arms of the Princess who caught him. Her bottom half was soaking wet from retrieving him, and she was sobbing into the nape of his neck. He clutched her as if she was his own sanity slipping away-what had happened? His mind took in the scene-the glen floor, far from the hilltops, he was between the arrow shop and the Shut-Eye Inn. Oh, he couldn't catch his breath and heaved in air against the shoulder of the Princess. People everywhere, running off their mouths in questions. Hands were checking his head, throwing towels around him, checking his pulse.

"You slept walk out of the party!" Cried someone from the crowd. Princess Zelda shook; her tears slipped down his back. He held her head.

"Where were you going?" Asked another. He looked out from the Princess over him at met the Hylia Shrine, staring at him in an intimate gaze. Chills ran up his spine. Her stone cheeks and features bore into him like two hands gripped on his face. He threw his head up at the hilltops were he had been standing just seconds before, but they were completely bare. No one looking down-just empty hills. But, his world was spinning. The arms of the Princess tightened around his shoulders; her frigid hands caressed his limp, wet hair.

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Edit 02-19-19

Author's Note: Special thanks to my dog, Ren, who made it into this chapter.


	4. Composure

**Author's Note** : Thank you choosing to read this story! I am slow to write, but this story is never far from thought. Link, Zelda, and what they represent to me write themselves on my heart and I spend hours thinking about how to and how to convey it in a story. Thank you followers for your undeserved patience. Look for me on every second and fourth Tuesday here on fanfiction. One chapter of the month will focus on the main story. The second (like our story below) will unpack and explore the subtle details hidden in the first. For now, feel free to introduce yourself over PM, share your own work, write down questions, or request artwork based on this story. For present artwork, feel free to visit "FirlyManorChronicles" on tumblr! Thank you for joining me in this journey, as you know, it's dangerous to go alone. LitBlueEyed

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 **Composure**

Why did he tell her? He should never had told Impa! Weeks of silence and careful conversations? Broken for that? What was wrong with him? He couldn't handle the measly voices? Were the apparitions that hard to deal with? He slammed his travel bag at the ground, up-sloshing a cake of grass-soaked, Kakarikan mush.

What did he expect to happen? Restlessness, sleepwalking into creeks, and now voices in his head and now mentioning apparitions fluttering around Kakariko? He watched his bag laying in the soaking mud, thinking he should really pick it up. He could have kept it to himself. He could go weeks without saying anything! Why did he have to say something? All morning he was running all over in his thoughts, going back and forth, packing and unpacking, forgetting things, leaving things, pushing things. Between the alleyway, he dropped the tea kettle from Epona's saddle bag, picked it up, and threw it against a rock. A mighty clang rang out and echoed between the walls of the inn and the bow shop. Silence fell. Epona coughed. Composure. Composure. Red cheeked, he scurried over to the dented kettle with hasty apologies, scooped it up, and stowed it back in the saddle bag. The horse's ears were pricked; she was watching him in confusion when he realized that he was confused too. Maybe even a little scared. it was so early in the morning. He sighed at the thought of waking anyone else up.

A presence emerged behind him; he whipped around in indignant hopes that the Elder herself had come to revoke her word and stop him from leaving, but in the next moment, the person was at his side, tightening the girth around the belly of the horse. His stealth mask clung to her face; his ivory scarf obscured her shoulders. Although a long straw hat shielded her eyes, he would forever know that this wasn't the elder, but instead the Princess. She wore the same fringed shawl as she did last night during the farewell dinner, but the garment was now mud-licked from his travel bag she lugged over her shoulder.

It couldn't have been more than one week ago where Impa had Link lend the Princess a spare uniform to hide her from the Hylian travelers who trespassed the sanctuary looking for a doctor. They had brought a whole winter sickness with them, and the Princess insisted on getting close to observe the symptoms "I've made potions before," she credited herself during the village meeting, "I just need time and a face mask." The sheikah mask would do. Link had thrown himself into showing her how to tie the matching scarf. Cross the ends, tie the simple knot, double back the ends, and done. Right? But, he had stood a second too long in the sticky silence that sat like thick mud. He was really close to her face. She was looking down. So was he, staring at the gap between their bare feet on the wood floor of Impa's cottage, acknowledging in himself that he had been looking forward to seeing her all day. And, if he was allowed, he would like to see her everyday. His hands clammed up beneath his gloves. No, no, he took a step back, gestured to the knot, and jostled out something that sounded like, "and there you go."

That whole sickness fell dormant to some concoction she pulled out of twenty-two hours in her cluttered room. But, she was still wearing the scarf and mask-even now, as she pieced through his saddle bag, making room for the medicine bottles and roll of gauze bandages. And, he stared for a moment, as this was the Princess of Hyrule, the stranger girl from his dreams, fated partner in blood and horror, now packing his things as if she were just a normal person. But, normalcy, like contentedness and satisfaction, even after the end of the Calamity Ganon, was only just a disguise. But, even so, a shy relief melted his freezing insides, as if this was Hebra in the middle of the snowstorm and he had just slipped into a cozy cottage where the fire was lit.

"Thank you." Said he, as clear as day. She half turned. Their eyes finally met, but he sank his gaze to her shoulder, needing a place to fall. "I-Impa" He stuttered, twisting Epona's reins in his hands, "I-Impa gave me your packet," he paused, "f-for Purah." Why was this always so hard? What else could he add? "A-And I'll take care of the slate until it reaches her."

In the end, she carried his bag and escorted him out to the ancient sheikah gates.

"Link?"

He spun around around-his breath a hot puff in the cold, dark morning-reluctantly doting on pesky hopes that couldn't afford to explore.

"I'd like to hold onto these." She said through the mask and tugged at the scarf.

He could only nod.

"But, I," she was stammering. Why? "I returned one of your uniforms in your bag." She held it out for him to take, telling him not to look for it. But, a vibrant shade of light blue lit up the crease of the pack, and now he needed to pretend like he didn't already know what was in there. Some sort of emotion swayed up from deep below, jostling his vision, but his hands found his saddle and caught him in his dizziness. He pretended to test the saddle for balance, as if it was one that needed steadying. He mounted, and eventually-somehow-left. But later in the journey, somewhere between Kakariko and Hateno, he carefully withdrew the Champions tunic from his pack and pressed it to his face. He chucked at the word "uniform." No more blood stains. No tears. She had darned the sides.

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 **Author's Note** : See you next Tuesday!


	5. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Link shot an old deer in the Retsam Forest, a small mud-slumped hill beneath the Hateno town center, and laid the game against a flat rock by a trickling creek. He set down his pack and rummaged through his pockets for his knife and the red-checkered cloth he had packed to wrap up the meat. Got it. He went to work. Muscle memory had him making the classic cuts-down the flank, up the gut, through the thigh. His hands were busy, but he had done this so many times. The repetition of this skill freed up his mind, so it started wandering back to the letter he had more than memorized now. He felt his back pocket. It was still there.

" _Dear Link,"_ she wrote him. " _I write to you underneath the apple tree, here in Kakariko, which always makes me think of you."_ Those words always leaped out at him! She was thinking of him. Was this such a surprise? He swallowed the glee like the first breath of air after surfacing from deep water. Her words took him captive all too easily. When he first opened the letter, his heart stilled and he hadn't realized he was holding his breath until the second paragraph. Because, there she was in his mind-the Kakariko Zelda-talking to him across the imaginary table, speaking through her letter. He read it in her voice, which accompanied him all throughout his travels. Was he smiling? Was he happy? How estranged he felt without her. But, that would be no more. No one in Hateno would know except he, Purah, and Symin, but she'd be visiting Hateno tonight.

According to her letter, Bolson opened his line of houses to outside travelers, but two families returned to Hateno reporting that the gates at Fort Hateno closed by some unknown authority. " _I'm gambling that all it will take is a conversation with the guard who tries to stop us from taking down the wood and wire of the gates. If need be, a tip of the hat and a formal introduction. But, don't worry about me."_ He could still worry. " _Don't come running down."_ It hurt not to run down, " _Dorian and Rola have volunteered their help."_ Did she need more help? Link sank back in his heels and looked out towards the overcast sky hanging above the white blossoms in the apple trees. He drew himself to his feet, reminding himself that the Sheikah had his trust. But, the lonely few weeks, dripping with cold wet rain, reminded him of what it felt like being down and out, tucked away beneath a mountain, while life passed around him. His shoulders rose; stress hooked his neck. There was so much to miss; it froze him like a ice-witch. But, relief melted it all away, and his heart was dripping at the thought that the center of his everything-whether forgotten or known-would knock on his door that night with a group of travelers. " _We will come in the night to avoid attention. Do you think we could stay with you for the night?_ " Wrote she. Of course. Yes, of course. What else did she need? Blankets? He bought ten.

He sacked the meat, knotted the ties of his pack, and drew up its weight in the bustling forest. The wind blew. Dark clouds spread out like a big, fat blanket, shrouding the mountains above. Surely it was a raging snowstorm up on the peaks, but the valley floor was tranquil. Creeping critters clicked and scurried and chirping filled the canopy. Some birds were repairing a drenched out nest; some of it washed out on the ground; eggs had cracked. The wet season was turning monstrous; the farm produce shared between the few homesteads wasn't doing so well, and if the rain continued to pour, the market would stunt. A few steps from it, a drowned batch of Hylian shrooms lay waterlogged. The smell was bad; maggots crawled. Link grimaced. The year is when the town needed the market the most. He thought about the Princess's warnings of Hateno being unprepared. The deer overpopulation could only last a growing village so long before the game died off or migrated away. Just then, the mist fell into a drizzle and a rock of petty despair deepened inside Link. He drew up his hood. Better get up the hill. A friend was waiting there.

Unlike Link, Dantz, the deer hunter, was a talker. But, he wasn't the type of person to ask deep questions-did he ever ask for Link's name? He wasn't so sure. He rarely looked at someone in the eyes. Instead, he sporadically kept checking out the space around him or looking off at something in front of him mid-story. Sometimes Link turned around to check out what he was looking at. It was just his mannerisms. He talked a lot about his vigorous youth and repeated stories to the men in the tavern. All in all, Dantz was not so much of a typical Hateno man, especially when tipsy. He was not as gruff and reserved as the mountain people, but instead beat with a sense of jubilant energy that made Link miss the Sheikah. Yet, he had his own burst of personality. It was strange to Link, who thought of himself too simple. This man was both klutzy and competent, moody and proud, quick to get excited about something, but would knock it down in the next sentence in full self-ordained indignance. His hands gripped the beer mug like it was his best friend and sometimes he blew his top when he had a little too much to drink. Link had the time to listen. Apparently a party of travelers snuck in through the beach path and settled above Dantz on Hateno Hill. Worse, his turnips missing.

Link made it to the barn at near top of Hateno hill, pushed his back's weight on the heavy wood doors, and entered the dark, dripping space. Musk and rotten hay drowned out his senses. He held his breath and looked for the chest in the corner that Dantz described. Objects materialized. There it was, hiding in a teepee of tools, rakes, and pitchforks. Clearing the space of tools, he moved through the mess and got up close. Carvings of deer and bears decorated its sides. A presence emerged behind him, but he turned to suddenly see that it was only a beam of light trailing in from the above shutters in the hayloft. Sunlight? It stung. His eyes were blind. Yet, rain still pitter-pattered on the roof.

Link went out to see, and there all of Hateno Village sat in a pineapple rain. The light blew up a rainbow over East Necluda, making the whole scene feel like a smile. Link stuck out his hands to wash them and caught the sparkling rain in his palms, and in the sunset, they shone like a vivid nectarine. The color was her hair. He pulled out the letter from his back pocket, as there was one part he didn't understand, but kept reading to himself over and over again: " _Sometimes I feel like this is still is the castle in the way that I let my mind wander to see how you are doing. Except, I can no longer see, and just left to imagine what you are up to and if you are doing well. I hope you are resting well."_ He was always resting. For one hundred years he rested! And, where was she? Working. Working without him. How long did he have to stay here for? Maybe he force his words out on paper and write to Impa about his improved health-no weird illusions, no ghosts, no voices, just one instance where he woke up in Epona's stable, frantically looking for a water bucket. He could omit that part.

"Hey Wanderer!" Link turned to find Dantz half way out his kitchen window across the muddy yard, "Look at this! It's sunny and rainin'! He threw his hat off, and cupped his eyes. Had it been weeks since they've seen the sun? "Meet'cha in the barn!"

Link pocketed the letter, and went back for the game he left in the middle of the barn floor. A bright diagonal beam shot over it like a fallen buttress. Clearing the space, he opened the hatch and lowered the bag of game into the chest, but paused. There was no ice inside. The meat would spoil, wouldn't it? Maybe Dantz had other ways of preserving meat-tie it up? Layer it in salt? The old wood doors opened with a loud creak, "Wanderer!" The man barged in, knocking over the rack of halters and ropes. "Damn it!" He kicked it all aside, "Don't tell me you've already got the meat! It's only been thirty minutes! How many you got?" The Wanderer held up a finger. "Only one? You feelin' sick or somethin'?" He shook his head. "Well, sheesh! I'm tellin' my boy inside about the swordsman who took out ten monsters. You only bring back one deer?" He trotted over to the bag, "Was hopin' for at least three times this."

"Hey Dad?" In came a young boy about the age fourteen with a tall lanky build, but his shoulders slanted in a way that made him look small and timid. His shirt looked too big for him, but a rope wrapped around his waist. A wooden sword hung at his hip. He looked up shyly from his red hair, "D-Do you need any help, Dad? I'm trying to hide from Pete."

"Sir W! This is my oldest son, Abel! And man, is he able!" He then whispered, "He's been wanting to meet you since you moved into town!"

"You're the swordsman who saved our sheep last Spring?" Said the boy, he was still gripping the wooden door. The wooden sword took Link's attention. He pointed to it. Fumbling, the boy took it out to show him. Link inspected it. Had the boy carved it himself? He ran his hand over its neck. The wood was smooth. Wow, not bad.

He grasped the handle to give it back to the boy, but the door blew open! An angry child charged in, dragging a little girl into the barn with each step. He clutched her wrist.

"Hero of time!" He yelled. Link fumbled the sword. Did he know? But, the little boy was pointing his small, chubby finger towards Abel. "It is I!" Roared he, throwing up ashes from his free hand, "Calamity Ganon!"

"Monster!" Red shoots of hair flew from the girl's little braid. "Let me go! Do you know who I am? Be gone!" She pushed out her free palm and made explosion sounds. Was this a game? If that was Calamity Ganon-he suppressed a smile-this was the Princess. He turned to the Hero of Time who sighed in embarassment. His cheeks burned red. He whispered an apology.

"Not now, guys."

"But, you have the sword." Pete dropped his sister's wrist.

"Quit kidnapping the Princess, Pete." Dantz swished up the little girl, but she kicked and squirmed at her dad's back.

She pushed out the palm of her little hand, "I banish you, you evil, twit!"

"Kera." Scolded her father, "Language. Pete! Go grab some meat. Abel, you work with Sir W. on the hay loft." Refocusing himself, Link looked down and got stuck on the question of what to do with the meat in the iceless chest.

Link gestured to it, "h-how do you want us to p-preserve?"

"Just leave the rest there." He said, tickling his daughter. "There is plenty of meat to go around! "Oh! The Mrs. wants to know if you will stay for supper. She's preggers, but doesn't bite. That all right?"

"I couldn't."

"You can!" Pete cheered.

"Yeah, he can!" Said the man grabbing a clumsy handful of meat from the chest. "I'll tell the Mrs. you stayin' for dinner and get some hot tea for ya' and we all can pass time rakin' out the rotten hay! Come on, Pete!" The little boy clambered out the doors on all fours. They creaked to a loud close, and then all was quiet except for a little sigh from Abel.

"He won't be back." He said. The boy held out a pitchfork in front of him for Link to take. But, Link paused. Instead, he traded the boy his wooden sword and turned the pitchfork on its head for the blunt edge.

"Really?" The boy's voice cracked. His gaze was like the sunshine. Link nodded and corrected the boy's hold on the sword.

"Were you boys cleaning out the hay or just banging on the walls?" Dantz's wife yelled over the crackling oil in the iron pan. It sizzled over the fire in the fireplace. Despite Dantz's warnings, Koyin, the farmer's wife, looked like she could bite. She was short, plump, and pieced together with a stained apron tight around the ribcage. Though with a swollen-stomach and arthritic hands, she was queen. According to rumors, her grandfather was both a hero and a cheat. He was an expert farmer who raised wheat from barren sands during the age of burning fields. But, he squandered his riches making his own beer, which unfortunately carried the taste of ashes. He drank himself silly, pretending to be the Don of Hateno, but everyone else saw him as the old fat man, caught taking too many baths in the only water source of the cemetery-town. The next generation grew up embarrassed and gruff, and all that Koyin inherited was the dark heavy eyebrows and the sense of command that employed Abel without a protest. "Yes, mom!" He was chopping away at the vegetables, Calamity Pete was setting the table, and Dantz was meandering a little too close to a bottle on the Hateno-blue draped table. She picked up and sneered, "not until dinner!" Apparently, she was six years Dantz's senior. Funny, it all seemed so sweet.

Link thought he should help in the kitchen, but when he tried, Koyin, eyed him up, took in a deep sniff, and wrinkled her small, mousy nose. "I don't want my supper smelling like the rotten hay I've been askin' my husband to clean out all month." She put a bar of soap in his hand and pointed a savage finger in the direction of the creek behind the barn. "Abel?" She yelled behind her, "Do you smell too?" He and Calamity Pete were banished with Link.

Now Link didn't know if he had any brothers, but the way they were chanting for him to dive into the creek made him feel he once had. It was so natural, it resounded some kind of longing that struck a chord to his chest and an automatic comfort surfaced. Chill nipped at his ankles in the shallows, but he dove in and resurfaced adapting to the water. The brisk afternoon sun slid upon the ripples on the water, sparking fairy-like glimmers of light that made the day feel like summer. But, the chilly wind blew. A great, black cloud climbed over Mt. Lanayru. Soon it would sweep into the valley and swallow the only sunshine they'd had in weeks. Abel was floating on his back when Pete grasped Link's wrist and climbed up his arm. He stuck his big hazel eyes close to the white-etched scars in his arms. Hiding them, Link sank down in the water until they were eye to eye.

"How old are you?" Asked the little boy. Link thought for a moment, frozen stalemate against his enthralled gaze. You know what, he didn't know. Did he really not know? He sank his mouth into the water and then dove under to give himself a moment to think. He raised up two rounds of ten fingers as a guess and resurfaced with the solution to play a game of Calamity Ganon.

By dusk, Koyin had called them in for dinner. The voice of a mother ringing out for supper felt like a pleasant chord strummed to the tune in a melody he craved. He didn't know he craved it that much. He came in running with the boys, trying to muffle the sound of his thundering stomach. She had garnished the deer with Lanayru salt and homegrown peppers and packed a whole thigh for Link to bring home. "Just bring the wrap back to me tomorrow." She said, holding up her wine-drunk husband in the doorway. His cheeks blistered. He looked half asleep, but very concerned, "W-Watch out for them, them turnip thieves, ya hear?"

Koyin sat her husband down on the porch chair. "You heading home back to that lonely house of yours?" She asked. Well, he wasn't sure. He thought about the Princess and the travelers, but he wouldn't tell her about that. Where were the scientists tonight? He thought about Purah, busying herself with the sheikah slate, forgetting the time of day, and then looking up to realize that it was night. Unlike the Princess, Purah would eventually plop off the chair and feed herself. For, she loved a meal too much to let her miss one, so he didn't need to worry.

"I-I'm seeing some friends." That was safe to say.

"What kind of friends?" A cryptic silence fell. She bent low in the orange light coming from the candles that flickered on the window sill, lighting up the rim of her glasses. Her brow deepened, her hands locked on her hips, and she met him eye to eye in a deep, savage squint.

"Listen here," She finally said, "I need to ask you a question, and I won't settle for any small answers." Link took a step back. "Are you nothing more than the swordsman who beat out those monsters last year?" She extended her hand, holding out a? She clasped a cherry red envelope between her fingers. He saw the cursive letters, _"Dear Link."_ His heart dropped. It must have fallen out of his pocket when he had changed out of his clothes. Link took back the letter.

"My kids play Calamity Ganon every night." There was a long pause. "Don't tell me that I just had the Hero of Time over at my house for dinner and his friend is no one but the Princess of Hyrule."

"I-I'm," what could he say? "I-I'm just a m-messenger."

"Well messenger," she tilted her head, stared down from beneath her glasses, "I'm assuming that the rumors about the Princess at Fort Hateno are true then? You would happen to know anything about that now, would you?

"N-No, mam."

"And the hero of time never lies?"

"No, mam."

Another long silence fell, but she picked up her snoring husband in the next moment and nodded him in distrusting farewell. The light of the door closed on him. He hightailed towards the gate, feigning calmness. Did she know? He rubbed the paper between his fingers in his pocket. There, just past the fence, Epona stood on the outside munching on the frosty grass. She perked up upon seeing him. Link scratched his horse's nose with a helpless "hello." He pressed his head against hers and stuffed the Princess's letter back in his front pocket. That was bad. But, there was nothing he could do about it now.

He steadied Epona, mounted her bareback, and parted with the children in the yellow-lit window with a wave. He nudged Epona on towards the road where the telescope of the lab emerged out of the black mass of the Hateno hill in shadow. It weighed heavily on in the week, he asked if Purah or Symin needed a ride down for the Princess's coming, but she shooed him out, saying, "I need to prepare! I can't see her like this!" She'd join later, he hoped. Link looked up at the dark sky. It was a moonless night-not that it mattered to the clouds. Was he nervous? He turned Epona towards the bottom of the hill and hushed his swimming stomach to the sound of the horse's hooves squishing the soaked grass. Lover owls hooted to each other between the spruce trees that lined the trail home.

Link took out the Princess's letter once more. What would it be like to write to her? Next time that they are apart? He could buy parchment and a pen, right? Purah was always exchanging letters with Impa anyways. Maybe he could send her a letter. It didn't have to be long. But there in his mind, she sat, wearing an age-old expression that made everything he could ever write to her too vague and too casual. Like a broken dam to a river, she filled up his mind: that furrowed-brow and buckled-lipped, looking so concerned like the day she had accompanied him and the guards to the Kakarikan highgrounds. She was grimacing at the Hyrule fields, biting her lip. "Let's turn around," she said gruffly before they made their way back down the hill. She seems so unreachable sometimes. He read the part again, " _Sometimes I feel like this is still is the castle in the way that I let my mind wander to see how you are doing. Except, I can no longer see, and just left to imagine what you are up to and if you are doing well."_ His stomach kept swimming.

The nightly rain began its trickling when he approached the Firly bridge. Should he look for them? He dismounted at the bridge, looking for a heads and hoods moving in the dark. The western sky lit up with far away lightning. Its thunder rolled within the minute. Epona stomped her heavy front foot against the wood, anxious to get off the bridge. He led her to the shelter and withdrew the bit from her mouth, still looking around. Epona watched him for an order. He brushed her nose. You stay here, thought he, closing the gate.

Link slipped his way down the rolling wet hills and looked out over the way out of town. Lightning ate up the view; most of it fell beneath the tree coverage. He needed a better vantage point. Careful not to stir the healing wound in his side, he eased his way down the steep cliffs that put Hateno on the hills and stumbled into the road where a great oak tree stood tall. He crept beneath its thick, curling limb for shelter and put up his hood. Rain skirted off the leaves. Should he keep walking? What if he intercepted them? What if he missed them? They may be moving by the way of the trees.

Thirty minutes of waiting had him thinking about the gates of Fort Hateno never opening, or the Princess calling off the trip. No, she would have sent him a letter. But, what if something happened to her? And the party had to seperate? Should he go find them? No, no, he forced himself to sit down against the root of the tree. They wouldn't know the way to the house if he left the post. An odd familiarity clung to him like clothes, and for a moment he saw a regiment of some sort, tucked away in the deep corner of his mind. The tree behind him became a stone bridge. He felt like saluting someone, but then tucked away the impulse as some sort of connection to the soldier he used to be one hundred years ago. His father was a knight. He wished he knew more about his father. Was he charismatic? Was he eloquent? Sometimes, Link was thankful that he couldn't remember the loss. But, it still hurt to look at his reflection, run his hands through his blonde hair, and not know who gave him his crashing rain filled his ears numb. He didn't even know his age. How could he not know that?

Sometime towards the end of the hour, Link felt more than raindrops in the ground. Shaking. Hoof-beats. He climbed to his knees and kept close to the ground until he saw dark silhouettes emerging from the tunnel of the trees in full run. Was that them? Link scurried out of the bush and rose up in the middle of the road, waving. The two front horses yanked to a stop. One rider held out the body of her coat. The Princess. Her Shekiah hat hung off her head, tied to her neck. Voices fluttered around him. Was that his own thoughts? Lightning broke! Lit up her face! Anguish? He ran up to approach her. Her horse reared. He pulled it down and met her face to face. "Link!"

Her mouth hung, shaping out words, but no sound came. She was shielding something inside her coat. A child sat in the front of her saddle, laying pale and sickly against her chest. A small crowd on four other horses rode up to them, all in the same fear and sense of hurry. Before Link knew it, his hand was on the child's forehead, feeling a fiery fever. He darted his finger to the secret path and ran the Princess's horse in the direction of the hill before sending it on. An arm grabbed his shoulder! Suddenly, he was lifted from his two feet and clambering onto the second horse in the party's line. He fell on the back of someone's saddle. A large back hunched in front of him. The guard turned and smirked over his shoulder. Dorian! Link clasped his shoulder. They galloped until they were neck and neck with the Princess. The rain was pelting. Lightning flashed. He was always seeing her in the light. One hand held the child's head, tucking it beneath her neck as they rode. Darkness fell. The cliffs approached. "Up here, Link?" Dorian yelled out.

He nodded. He turned to face the Princess who met him eye to eye. This was her. Beneath the facemask, this was her. It was like seeing her for the first time all over again. His heart was racing. His tongue tangling. He wanted both to hide in a cave and take her hand in his and say "hello." Yet, feelings soothed themselves itself into familiarity. But, beneath it sank something deeper; something so wrapped up in his heart: perhaps, forgotten memories surfacing, feelings coloring themselves whenever they worked together. Something in him woke up like he would on an easy morning in Kakariko and she was there, knocking on his window.

Thunder rolled! Water poured! He looked behind him to find the others far down the path. He handed the keys to the Dorian and dismounted. "Meet you there!" He was yelling against the storm, "Set a fire! Boil water." He took off for the travelers riding gates behind, "I'll d-direct the others!" Before he knew it, the ponies rode up to him. A quick survey: a mother on the back of a teenage boy on one horse, a father in between two little boys on another, another plumper mother with a daughter, and another father with toddler strapped to his waist. Mirth filled the air.

"Are you who we think you are?" The man with two boys asked. Link nodded and pointed up the hill.

"This way."

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 **Author's Note:** Thank you to my Grandma. "So, what's this I hear about you writing a story?" She asks one morning. I try to dismiss it, but it doesn't work and then she demands that I send her the link to the story. So I wrote this, feeling so touched and endeared that my Grandmother wants to read my story-my fanfiction out of all things. Thank you for reading, Grandma. God knows how much I love you! And, thank you to anyone giving this a read. Let me know what you think and feel free to check out the tumblr page for art and update information! I'll just be writing away. See you August 6th!


	6. The Fire

**Author's Note:** Hello and happy Tuesday! Thank you to the early readers, though I'm sorry you got the draft of the chapter that included the font code. I'm glad I double checked before more time could pass. I hope you find this version easy to read! On another note, I always want writing to speak for itself, so I hesitate to add sound tracks to stories. But, I've been so inspired by the sound of Gregory Alan Isokov that I wanted to mention his songs "Too Far Away" and "Was I Just Another One," which inspired the mood of this chapter. Feel free to give them a listen. It's a pleasure to write these stories and I appreciate you coming along with me. Feel free to check out the tumblr site for artwork! See you August 21st!

* * *

The Fire

One afternoon back in Kakariko, Link had finished untacking the horses and decided to take the long way back to the Shut-Eye Inn. He crossed the old Sheikan bridge that overlooked the whole glen, which was now laced in the shadows of the towering hills and willow trees that grew above the village. He loosened belt on the wound at his waist, and released the searing pain in a sigh. Undoing the belt all-together, he told himself that he would rest until supper time. But, halfway across the bridge he saw the Princess walking with the paddy maids, their boots in their hands, to the small plot of land that the Sheikah flooded every Spring for rice.

The Princess stood on the bank and rolled up her pants while their big gruff son-a giant amongst the cute old ladies-helped the maidens into the water. One of them-her long gray braids loose from her straw hat-spun with early-spring glee and churned up splashes in her twirling. The Princess put up her hands up and darted from the pool, laughing. The gruff man even smiled, and when Link found himself smiling too, he was spotted him on the bridge. The old paddy maid waved him over, so he shyly approached, feeling like a stranger in a world too inviting for his comfort. The son-Avo, his name-plucked an early-sprouter from the water and raised it up for him and the Princess to see. His gruff demeanor softened with every sprout he picked from the water. "Okay, Avo." One of the maids held his hands, "Save some for the harvest!"

He followed the Princess through the watery rows, trying not to take advantage of this nearness, which his curiosity had craved all day. No luck. He looked up from his feet, sloshing through the water, and noted her careful stride, her strong back, and her small chin lifting as she listened to the paddy maids talk about the Sheikah's history of rice farming. A thick blonde strand of her hair fell her bun beneath the wicker hat. It was so long. Did she ever wear it down? A small gasp disturbed his thoughts, she slid, but he caught her a little too quickly. She turned around smiling with some sort of smirk that had him feeling teased. What was that look? ' _You haven't changed much, Link.'_ Have you? Thought he, so curious to know, but he only eased his fingers from her shoulders and looked back down at his ankles in the muddy water. "C-Careful," He said, spotting her as they walked forward, "S-Slippery mud."

Apparently the Princess looked exactly the same as she did one-hundred years ago: young face, ageless green eyes, thick brows, and a small body that mimicked an intimidating presence despite her lack of height. But, now people were saying that she was entirely different; that something about her echoed her Father. She laughs like him. Her smiles rise with the same sort of sly amusement, as if she had just thought of the perfect comeback. It's something in the brows. He wasn't sure what. She also scowls like him when bothered: her brows furrow, her mouth buckles, her eye twitches. According to Impa, she's more vocal now and insistent upon her way of doing things: using her free-time to rice farm when she should be resting, taking walks without guards, taking the lead in meetings, spending all-nighters studying the last one-hundred years, drafting and scrapping letters to the leaders of the four domains, and spending hours upon hours working her room.

Impa had originally given her this room so that she could have a quiet space to grieve, but as far as he knew, she just worked and worked. Sometimes she writes poetry. He didn't know of what, but he caught glimpses of the lines every now and then when dropping off meals when she worked through supper. Working consistently, speaking without a stutter, contributing to the community, she seemed so perfect-as well-oiled and functional as a guardian, carrying out a purpose. But what was so strange to Link was the truth that she, unlike him, still had all her memories of the Calamity and slaughter of Hyrule, her family, and her people. He had spent months running through the ruins of Hyrule, bracing for what the New World would do to her. Everything's destroyed. Everyone's dead. Would she die at the sight? No. He watched her curiously. No?

The Princess squatted down and looked deeply between the shoots of rice in the water, which reflected back a blue sky. She was looking at something. Link joined her to see what. A school of small, pale fish swam around their feet. Amazement colored her face. She asked what they are for. Fertilization they told her. Her eyes traced a large fish. Link plucked it from the water and held it up for her to see. It blubbered in the open air, sucking for something between its two flat lips. He looked up to see her, she glanced at him, the fish, the fish again and mouthed the word "beautiful," and traced its gills with her fingers. If trauma was Ganon's grasp on them, was she really as slippery as this fish, wiggling through his fingers? She was smiling; he was smiling; maybe he could slip through too. What a nice day. There was no plan for the night except to sit down for dinner with Impa, who now used him to coax the Princess out of her room. If Paya joined, they'd play cards, and he could listen to Impa and Zelda banter about the old days, one hundred years ago.

But then something happened. Around supper-time, there was a loud shout and then an explosion, followed by a plume of smoke that snuffed out the glen. Kakariko felt like a town on a frail twig about to snap when fire-pink fire?-pounced up over the trees of the Great Fairy Wood. Not a normal fire, worried Link as he raced towards it. Hot magic zipped throughout the night! Trees were melting! Was this a daydream? Link beat himself up to find an answer, beholding the scene above him. He didn't know! There was no time! He needed to check for people in the woods, so he ran forward. His side ached! Ah! It hurt! He held it in one hand and clutched a sword in the other! Hot! The mantle of his sword fried his hand, and he released it in recoil, stepping back from the energy of the woods that made his nose bleed. What to do? Turn around to warn the villagers. Dorian, Rola, Cado, and a few other sheikah ran up, but he cut them off and held them back, releasing the blood from his nose. "Where's the Princess?" Shouted Dorian, "I saw her go into the forest!"

Just then, as if on horrifying cue, the Princess emerged fast out of the dying forest and pushed right past them and their thousands of questions. Her clothes were singed! She cupped her nose with her hand, which made her voice muffle, "I'm fine!" she said, "I'm fine."

"What happened?!" Dorian ran after her.

"It's okay, Dorian!" She barked back. She was cursing herself down the hill when Dorian stopped and searched Link for an answer that he didn't have, They both ran down to catch up with her when Paya approached from the bottom of the hill, "Paya," her voice was too rushed to sound calm, "this is fairy magic, can you pacify her for me?" Paya took off for the forest muttering soothing enchantments, and the pink fire storm shrank and shriveled until it was no more.

"Princess! Are you hurt?" Dorian finally fell in stride with her. Impa's house was approaching fast. "Did the Fairy hurt you?"

"No, no," she shoved her hand out as if she would grab his mouth from his face, "This was my doing. I'm fine! It's fine!"

"It can't be Princess!" said Dorian

"Dorian, stop it! It's fine! I was out of line with her." Blood seeped from her palm on her nose. Link raised his hand to wipe it, but SLAP! She swatted it away! She spun and shouted, "Go away! Do you always need to be one step behind me, Link? Leave me alone!" She stormed up the steps of Impa's house and slammed the door on the mysterious night. He could only watch. He rubbed his hands together.

Later that night, when that hopeful blue day turned to another stormy night, Dorian and Impa had lured Link into the kitchen and put a tray of smoked bass and herbal tea in his hands. No, no, he shook his head, trying to push the tray away. Couldn't someone else run dinner up to the Princess? Just this once? "Just drop it off at her doorstep." They said, so he found himself halfway up the stairs, hoping her door would be closed. He could just put it on the floor, knock, and then leave before it opened again. But knocking, he realized at her door, required a special kind of courage that was above him. He cursed himself and knocked anyway.

Walk away, he told himself, but something like the feeling of clouds parted in his mind. Maybe it was a delusion or the product of sleepless nights catching up to him, but his view of the door dissipated and some sort of foresight possessed him. An foreign image fell upon him like the rain on the grass outside. For what seemed like minutes packed into a profound moment, he saw the Princess in the woods, pelting the fairy fountain with stones. But, then the door before him swung open,shaking him from the sight, and he was back. The Princess looked shocked, and he thought he would be too, but he just stood there, sinking in both wonder and compassion, all of it secret and unknown to her.

"Link, I-."

"I-I'm," he interrupted, holding out the tray, "I'm s-sorry."

"N-No, no," She tried to wave it away. "I can't." Her hands were filled with books. Books were all over the floor at the foot of her door, as she had been camping there for a few hours.

"C-Can I?" He gestured to the desk. She looked reluctant, but kicked away some books so he could get through with the tray. He set it down next with a clank, careful not to trip the tall, lit candle on her desk. There were no papers. No poetry. All of it was shoved off the surface and scattered on the floor. A moment went by before he turned around to find her, just standing there, eyes pinned against the floor, buckling her mouth, arching her shoulders. He pulled out her chair, and she looked at it as though she would never sit down. But, then she did and thanked him for bringing up the meal.

When silence fell. The sound of rain trickled in through the open window, making the drafty room feel cooler than usual. There was something to be said-the air of the room was heavy with it-but he didn't know what it was or what it wanted for him. A pink lantern hung behind them by her bed and flickered their shadows on the wall where they both watched, side by side. Should he go? His presence was unwanted, right? It was proper to go. Yes, yes, he needed to go. But, questions unasked pinned him down like an anchor to a boat in a storm. Are you okay? What happened tonight? Do you want to talk about it? Are you as composed as you always seem? He was in the auction crowd all over again: the Firly Manor was for sale, bets were running, and he was trying to make himself leave when he really wanted to stay.

"I'm sorry I hit you." She said almost stoically, but then her voice broke. "You didn't deserve that. No, you didn't deserve that."

He was watching his shadow on the wall when he dared himself to reach down and take her hand. She sank her palm into his. He held it tightly-tightly, with both hands. "I-Is there s-something I can d-do?"

"Yes," She sobbed. He was all ears, "Don't give me food when I hit you." She began wiping her eyes. He brought her hand to his chest and cradled it.

"I just feel so dead inside."

But, she was back at it the next morning, sifting through the forest's ashes with a paddy maid's stick. She said nothing as he approached. He helped her push a few logs into the shape of a square, not realizing what she was doing until she looked up and asked if he could go find Avo and the paddy maids. "Maybe we can restore this place and turn it into another rice field."


	7. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The open houses lay dormant on the other side of Firly Manor. Through the rain and mud, the party trampled the night with running boots and horse hooves in their haste to move in before sunrise. Steam and fog swallowed them, voracious rain ate up their ears, but eventually, Link's house emerged from the darkness.

Link ran the group into a dismount and corralled their horses into his pasture behind the house where Epona meandered. Her ears perked up from the excitement. In between shaking hands with the travelers who stayed behind to help, Link and the adults started untacking the items that would ruin in the rain. Meanwhile, the children huddled under the wood shelter, giggling at the storm's light show. Link passed them in rushing everyone inside. One small, plump boy about the size of Pete caught the hem of his tunic and held it as if it was magic. Link took his hand. "L-Let's get warm."

Upon entering the house, his eyes went to the Princess. There she was, climbing the stairs to the left of him, trailing the sick little girl and the mother who carried her with dry clothes. Her back faced him; orange light from the windowsill candles slid like hot wax on her sleek black coat and mask she untied from her face. For a moment, something about her seemed too big for this small cottage, a giant walking through his loft as if she had been for ages, a dark, dripping ghost whose soul rested on a higher plane. She walked with a wonky limp.

"Link!" Dorian was going through the wood cabinets, "Do you have more blankets?" He and Dorian were giving out the quilts that he had bought earlier that day when the large pile in his hands fell to two: one for the mother upstairs and the other for the Princess. He pushed away his anxiety to get up the stairs, but the weight of her presence struck him when he reached the top step and saw her in the flesh. In the light, so close, she festered in the corner of his bedroom, tucking in the mother with the little girl so they could be warm.

Weeks without seeing her forced him into drinking her in, quickly, as if taking a shot of medicine. Splotches of mud trailed her left cheekbone. Her back arched awkwardly, one arm fixed itself on her lower back, and her elbow jutted out behind her as if she was steadying her posture. Her mask and scarf fell in hanging strips around her neck, but she was still in her soaking clothes. A puddle formed at her knees. Some part of him, one he tried to quell by watching his feet as he entered, pricked with an unfair hope that he'd look up to find smiles and glances coming his way. But, she was busy. "How is her temperature?" She spoke from her chest, sounding different: unaware of her confidence and command. "Is she allergic to anything? Can she chew safflina blossoms?" Link spread one quilt over the two in the bed while the Princess handed the mother a burlap bag of safflina blossoms.

"Thank you, Hero," the woman reached her hand out. He took it.

"Link," the Princess turned to him. His heart stopped, but she continued unnoticing. She flashed a soaked to-do list beneath his eyes. Its ink dripped from her exposed fingers and bled into her gloves, "I need a water source." He quickly read her list of crossed-out lines: hunt, check horses' feet, teach children to look for medicinal herbs, and distribute seeds. Had they already done this?

"B-Below my house."

"That's yours." Asked she, almost entirely without inflection.

"It's private. N-No one will disturb them."

She bit her lip and set down the list down before jumping to her heels, "We will get out of your space soon," almost sounding cold in her rush. She was heading for the balcony to address the crowd below when Link caught her hand. She was still soaking wet. She whipped back. "What?"

Her voice flattened him. Stunned, Link eased his grip on her hand. Words evaded him in the confusion, so he tugged on the sleeve of her jacket. Drips fell to the floor.

"There's no point in changing." Her voice cracked; she was stressed, "We will be back in the rain shortly."

"J-Just take this." Link shot her a blanket.

She rolled her eyes. But, she took it. The blanket on one side of her shoulder, she approached the balcony, "Thank you for your patience." She counseled the group for the next fifteen minutes while Link and Dorian managed the fire that kept the house warm. Her voice sounded hoarse, "Cheri and Estelle will stay here until we move everyone in. We need to do it before the rooster's wake the farmers up in three hours. I," she stopped for a moment as if wheezing in pain. She caught her breath, "I can't bear another night of watching you all sleep in the mud."

One of the men stood up with the little, plump boy in his arms, "We'd choose the mud with you over mansions any day, Princess." Suddenly people were cheering.

"She's gonna make a great queen one day, Princess." Dorian murmured. Queen? Link pushed himself upon his knees, he turned around to see for himself. She waved away the praise like it was smoke from a campfire. The blanket had fallen from her shoulder. It was hard to like the word when she was shivering. Was something wrong with her back? She was rubbing something out behind her.

She was reading the agenda for the rest of the night when Bolson knocked on the door and entered in with a strut. In puffy, pink pants, he closed his turquoise umbrella. Up went the clapping, "Oh such beautiful people." He laughed. Their excitement slung whimsy and joy into the stormy night, but something felt wrong. Fowl. The Princess re-tied her wet facemask and took over the move-in process of the second family. Bolson and Dorian took the first, so Link threw himself in with the Princess. "I-Is something wrong with your back?" He asked, toe to toe with her, crossing the Firly Bridge with the couple and their three children.

"Yeah." Her voice muffled under the wet mask. Are you sure? Maybe it was her furrowed brow, her robotic voice, the deadness in her eyes, or the way she kept her gaze locked on the houses on the other side of the hill, but she looked inhuman: a guardian carrying on with its mission. Was she really there? Mid-stride, she popped a slice of something into her mouth from her pocket. "Can you guard the rear?" She faced him. He looked like a stranger in her eyes. Saddened, he fell to the back of the group and guarded their backs as they hustled for the boxy houses on the other side of the gorge. Lightning flashed! Thunder scared the children inside their homes.

For the next hour, the Princess was running back and forth, rising, sitting, and squatting in moving furniture for the rest of the night. One mother gave her last goodbyes in the doorway. "Bless you, children." Link stood behind the Princess. "We can't thank you enough." Without words, the Princess bowed her head then drew up her hood with an expression that Link couldn't see until she spun around towards him and continued into the rain. Shaded but not hidden, her eyes glimmered with some sort of wild fear. Her limp worsed. She brushed passed Link as if he wasn't there.

His voice went out from under him. "W-Wait a minute!" He caught up to her easily. When he thought she'd ignore him, she started bellowing in her chest, "I fear that I've made too much of an impact by opening the gates." She spat out rainwater and coughed. On the middle of the Firly Bridge, her grip went harsh on the railings, splinters going through her hands. She jerked to a stop. Her back was a dramatic arch. She shook like a leaf in the wind.

"P-Princess?" Link tried to find her eyes, but she kept turning from him.

"If th-th-they come here," She coughed, "How will they get food and shelter? My biases ran ahead of me, and I don't know what the next step is!"

"P-Princess," He pushed himself in closer, her head now below his chin, "P-Princess, let's get off the bridge."

"Is this fair to Hateno?!" She spun around, shot with full contact, her eyes shaking.

"L-Let's get off the bridge." He was scared. Flash! Lightning shot! "We should get off the bridge!" Flash! She dropped to her knees! She rolled back as her feet had fallen from under her! Before he knew it, his palm was on her head as she fell against him! Crush! His knuckles slammed against the wood in saving her head. He fell with her, horror shook him up and over her. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. "Princess? Princess!"

"Are we calling this fainting episode stress-induced?" Asked Dorian. An hour had given them time and space to get the Princess warm and dry. She was laying against the mother's lap on the sofa with her bare feet up on pillows to return the blood flow. But, her cheeks were still pale and clammy like a fish out of water. Her eyes were closed as if she was asleep, but she looked in pain with her eyebrows scrunched together. Although unconscious, she kept mumbling to herself and talked in shivers. Yet, she was up to her chin in a chestnut blanket. Although crumbling in pain, she kept trying to arch her back, pulling her wet long hair from Cheri's lap in doing so. The woman had untied it so it could finally dry after days of traveling in the rain.

Dorian spread out a long piece of parchment in front of him on the oak would table and began the greeting of a letter to Impa. He tapped the quill on the edge."So Link caught her? She has no head injuries?"

Link almost didn't hear him through the loudness of his own thoughts. He stood at the pots on the fireplace and stirred the venison in with the endura shroom broth. The bubbling of the stew tricked him into thinking he had the silence to himself. The savory steam took him back to Kakariko. The Princess had just pulled him from the pond. He was only catching frames of rushing forms by the minute: her hair blood hair in his face, her arched chin as she yelled out for more help, her shaking hands grasping his skull as if he was slipping away. Was this what it was like being on the other end? His chest weighed heavily as if he was still carrying through the archway of his house.

"Link?"

He caught Dorian's stare over his shoulder, "No. H-Her head didn't make contact with the wood." He peeked over at her on the sofa where Purah had pulled up a stool. She had brought some sort of clunky device when Dorian went to retrieve her from the lab. The thing had a screen and wires that wrapped around the Princess's waist and beeped every other minute. The trickling of midnight rain on the window panes filled in the silence. She sat, stern and focused, as if the downtrodden mood had simmered her usual, upbeat excitement. "Has she ever fainted before?" Asked Purah.

Dorian shook his head. "No."

The machine beeped again. "I'm picking up something though."

"What's that thing telling you?" The Cheri asked.

"Some abnormality in her posture."

Link lifted the ladle in deep thought and buckled his lip, weary of betraying secret knowledge. Hot drips from the spoon burned his thigh, "I-I think something's wrong with her back. She kept holding it."

"Ah," the scientist double checked the screen of the machine, "There it is."

"See something?" The woman asked.

"Something's wrong with the disc of her spine." The scientist turned around, "Dorian, do you know anything about this?"

Dorian turned to the woman after a while, "Cheri? Do you mind if we discuss in private a bit? If you'd like I can escort you to your family's house."

"There's no need." The woman eased the Princess's head off her lap and gingerly placed her on a pillow. "Can I help with anything?"

"No, thank you for offering."

She bowed to them and shook Link's hand before leaving. "Thank you, Hero."

"We will take care of your daughter." Dorian escorted her to the door, "Please come back in the morning."

Upon the closing of the door, Purah perked up from her machine, "If I saved the Princess from the castle, would I be called Hero?"

Dorian ignored her, taking his seat before the letter, "We should be careful of what we say around outsiders."

"Why is that?"

"It's all too soon. The world is in the process of realizing that Link and the Princess aren't legends anymore. We are too unprepared for the public to see you both being," he paused. His eyes fell on the Princess, now shivering in the absence of Cheri's body heat, "mortal." He went on, "We don't have official guards to protect you guys. We don't have a kingdom to put you in. We don't even have a plan for what to do next, and people will take advantage of that if we aren't tactful."

A long pause passed, Link was thinking when Dorian affirmed his thoughts, "The one thing the Princess can do is exploit the mystery surrounding her."

"Exploit?"

"Exploit," he confirmed, "Like what she did with the gates. To the gatekeepers, she's an undeniable deity and they took her word as if it was some sort of sacred command."

"Exploit is a harsh word."

"The Princess doesn't like it either." He folded up the letter and licked the envelope closed, "But it's our best tool as we try to figure out what's next. To keep up the illusion, she can't talk about hernias or discs or fainting sprees in the open. So we shouldn't either." There was a long pause, "But, yes, she told me about the back pain. She's been eating endura shrooms as a pain reliever," he let out a sigh, "But we both got lost in the child getting sick."

Link ditched the ladle and knelt before the Princess on the sofa. "Is she still shivering?"

"Yeah, got any more blankets?"

No, he didn't. He removed his sweater and laid it on her. Under its insulation, her shoulders relaxed. Her knot between her eyes released her brows and she fell still. Her mouth hung open in a snore. Biting his lip, Link found himself looking down at her and tripping over feelings too dear for a mind with a natural inclination for reservation, hard lines, and shyness. Purah caught his eyes. No, the woman was blushing. A wild smile rose between her cheeks. Her mouth fell open with words that Link would regret.

"D-Don't," he tried to stop her.

"Is this a thing?" There she goes. "Snap! Link! Is there a thing, here?" Link swiveled away and retreated to the soup, wishing there was a door behind him that he could shut. "Dorian!" She exclaimed, "Give me the details! Did anything happen in Kakariko?"

"Stop it Purah. You're embarrassing him." The guard scolded, but then whispered, "But, yes, they took walks together almost every week."

"NO WAY!"

"I-It's not like that." Link buried his mind in the soup.

"We're talking about she'd-tap-on-his-window-kind-of-walk."

"LINK! Tell me the details!"

"It's not like that!"

"What did you guys talk about?"

"Stop."

"This is why we're here! So tell me!"

He shut her out; ignored her. Miserable, suppressing the heat in his cheeks, Link poured out three bowls and placed them on a tray to pass around. He pushed them their bowls.

They looked up confused. "You're just going to reward us, Link?"

"Link and I have a mutual bond, Dorian. It comes with being over one-hundred years old and still looking like a child. I address the emotions he suppresses, right Link?" She tapped the space before him on the table. Dead inside, he looked up, "Right Link?" He scowled. Dorian smirked.

"Link," Dorian said, "No teasing, I'm being sincere. I'm sending this letter off to Impa tonight. We've got a Rito trailing us. If I know the Elder, she will write back that day, demanding for us to make sure the Princess stays put until recovery. I don't know how long that will be, but can she stay here? Can she stay here with you?"

"Of course." He whispered.

"What's that smell?" Came a voice from the loft. Link looked up to find Estelle peaking between the railings in a cute, pink nightgown. Her small hands held the leg of the railing for comfort. She took in a deep sniff.

"Would you like some stew?" Link pushed himself up from the bench. She nodded eagerly. He retrieved another bowl before climbing the stairs with it. Taking her hand, he walked her back into her bed and set the soup down on her lap with a towel so she wouldn't burn her hands on the bowl. She downed two helpings and a cup of water before passing out again. Link eased himself in the chair of his desk across from the bed. She'd be okay. Color was returning to her cheeks. Thoughts of the Princess staying for him kept him up all night.

That next morning, Estelle was up and running circles around Link when her mother knocked on the door. His worries descended on the Princess who was trying to get herself up from the sofa and whimpering. Purah was still waking up from her mat on the floor. Link rushed across the foyer. "W-Wait, wait!" He knelt beside her.

She let out a painful breath, "L-L-Link," she whispered, still shivering. She was looking down; bags hung from her eyes. "I-I n-need you to hold my b-b-back up. Hold my back up u-until she l-leaves." She took his forearm and wound it around her lower back. "Like that."

She cussed out relief. But, Link's insides went swimming.

"Does that feel better, Princess?" Purah piped up from the fire where bacon was cooking, teasing him. His fingers lay flat against the curve of her backbone. His pinky teased the bump in her spine; he commanded himself against feeling it. The small of her back was warm from his jacket she had taken some time during the night. Her nightgown was thin, but now he needed to pretend like it wasn't; that this was just another part of a mission; that he could do this as confidently as shooting a deer, cooking a stew, or raiding a base.

"Can you to m-move me to the bench?" The Princess asked. She was so sincere. Her voice comforted him. Of course, he could move her to the bench. He drew up the knight in him and moved himself into the seat beside her on the sofa. He used her hip as a handle as he drew up her weight against his forearm. Eventually, she was on her feet, biting her lip from the pain.

"I-I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"Not at all," she flashed a smile his way, toe to toe with him. He turned her way, and in her eyes, found years of familiarity and warmth that surpassed the few months he had "known" her. He smiled inside. Taking slow and steady steps, he led her to the old wooden table where he helped her sit down on the bench.

"Princess?" From the door, Purah looked at her, then him, then her again, snuffing out an evil smile spreading like wildfire between her cheeks. Her cheeks popped with blush, "A-Are you sure about this? I can ask her to come back." Her eyes flicked over to Link. He avoided his gaze and found the Princess's wet, black pants, drying on the rack by the fire.

He used his free hand in pointing her pants pocket. "Princess?" It was just beyond his reach. Is that where she kept the endura mushrooms? He had seen her take a slice last night on the bridge.

"Purah," she said weakly, "Can you get the velvet bag in my pants pocket?" She took the vegetables and sliced a chunk off with a knife on the table. Link kept her backside as she ate the slice and hid the rest in the fruit bowl. She grabbed a book and pretended to read it, "I-I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" Link whispered, "It will take f-fifteen minutes to kick in."

"Just watch." The Princess winked. "Don't look so worried."

The open door stole his attention, but he felt two taps on his hand around the Princess's hip. Two taps? He turned towards her. She was so close to his face.

"Cheri!" The Princess bursted out, shocking Link. Her smile was glowing like a thousand sunrises that Hateno would never experience! Her voice shook off his walls. The woman came running into the Princess's warmth, and for a moment, it felt like everything was well; like there was no reason to be holding her side; like she had never fainted; like she wasn't sick. Her planted joy blinded the woman from the fact that Link was holding her back under her coat. Was she shivering? Yes, Link it in her when she extended her arms to receive the woman's hand. But, Cheri couldn't see that. Illusionist. She had fifteen minutes to improvise. This was all her. "Cheri!" She cheered, the woman in the palm of her hand, "How is your home?"

"Oh, Princess! Everything is perfect!" The Princess never had to get up. She pulled the woman into a seat at the table and engaged the woman in conversation. "You're feeling better?" The woman asked.

As if the Princess timed everything on cue, Estelle came running up and hugged her mother from behind. "Much better thank you!" She said, sounding so natural, and then directed the conversation back onto something that could distract the mother, "Estelle still has a fever," said the Princess, as if speaking from a place of perfect health, "but she's a lot better."

Cheri stayed for breakfast; there was no way to avoid it. She came in when the bacon was cooking, so the Princess invited her to stay. Fifteen to twenty minutes in, Link was still holding her back. Cheri and the Princess were still in small talk. The woman finished up her plate and snuggled her daughter, both their eyes were glowing, "Princess, I really can't thank you enough. When will we see you next?"

"Unfortunately, we must leave today."

"Is that so?"

Estelle kissed her hand.

Purah put in the cue for the woman to leave, "We're so glad Estelle is feeling better." She opened the door as they got up. The Princess snuck her hand beneath the table and tapped his hand twice. Again? Twice?

Tap. _Thank._ Tap. _You._

Suddenly, she was up from the bench and walking without him, almost looking normal. She escorted them out with the kicked in strength. She closed the door and looked down at her feet, pain and sad goodbyes coloring her face. Link sprung to his feet.

Purah whispered as he passed, "It's good to be here."

* * *

 **Autho-r's Note** : Purah, this is why **I'm** here.

Edited 8-30-19


	8. A Bucket Full of Water

**Author's Note:** Happy Tuesday! This chapter is a week early! I meant to it to be a gift to you all, but its also a gift to me. Today's my birthday, and I've really enjoyed taking the day to write in my favorite coffee shop by my school. The shop is run by a fabulous Korean woman who likes university students. She gives out discounts and lets her student-employees read and study when it's slow, which I really appreciate as a bystander. I think she's noticing me coming in every Tuesday. I just moved back to the area, looking for places to land and whatnot, so this is a great part of the new routine.

Anyway, I hope this chapter is a nice surprise for you! Thank you for your support and comments. I took a moment to read them the other day and was sincerely encouraged. Thank you to the bottom of my heart Meyssa, Queen Emily the Diligent, Midnaisbae (Midna is a bae!), and AritheDoggo. Leviibanez, you found me on here. Thank you for your support, editing, and encouragement. Shout out to him. Not only is he my best friend. He's my fiancee and the person I use when I think about how Zelda feels about Link. Enjoy her perspective! See you September 3rd!

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Bucket Full of Water

"Why aren't you working?" Zelda was dreaming of her Father's voice, "You're not working hard enough." She stood up to confront the sleepy fog when a wave of water slapped the wall. She sprung awake! A sharp pain dug into her lower back. She fell against the cushion beneath her and whimpered.

"Princess, stay down!" Whispered a voice. It was deep and hoarse, but kinder than her father's.

"Link? She couldn't see. Her spine seized up when she moved. "I-Is that you?"

"Y-Yeah, it's me."

All went quiet in her soul, as it usually did when he was present. Feelings of gratitude and safety seeped in and she relaxed her shoulders against the sofa. Her body took in the plush cushion beneath her. Her sore back was sinking in. She peaked out the window in the corner of the house where an early, electric blue morning filtered in through what looked like white curtains.

Was something dripping? She wiped the sleep from her eyes and looked down the bridge of her nose for the source of the sound. But, faint glimpses of Link's silhouette caught her eyes. The small, smokey fire in the fireplace framed his form and highlighted the blonde flyaway hairs like the sun on the morning clouds. Questions swirled her head like a flurry of snow. How are you? How have you been? But, all that could escape her mouth was shivers.

"I-I'm sorry I woke you. I was putting out the fire, but then I," he paused, his voice shaking in the way someone does when trying to put together pieces of a mystery. Was he looking around? Was something wrong? She tried to sit up on her elbows, but the feeling of knives plunged deeper into her spine. Pain was a ghost, ripping her spine from her back. She yelped out.

"Stay down," he shuffled over to her and put out his hands, "Y-Your spine." He neared. "Something's wrong with it."

"I know." She laid back down, trying to stay still. She let out a long sigh. "I know." It should have healed a while ago. She overdid it when she told herself not to. And, now she couldn't move. Secret anger, as heavy as a pile of stones on her chest, had her cursing herself. Memories of rain, horse hooves, gates, and scared guards trampled through her mind. She opened the gates when had decided to only inspect them. Was it to show power? Damn it! What had her act so rashly? Her head fell back. There was nowhere to look except the ceiling. "Did I faint from the pain?"

"I-I don't know." He said. Where was he? He felt close by.

"My h-head," she traced her scalp with her fingers: no bumps or sore spots. "Th-Th-There's no pain."

"You fell well." Said he. The warmth in his voice lit an inner peace that she didn't want to feel. But the feeling stayed with her. Could he be smiling now?

"Can I sit up?" She asked.

He stuttered as if hesitant.

She tried again, "I-I'd like to see you."

His breath was still, and for a moment, the room felt stuffy-stuffed with hopes, unsaid words, unheard stories, and mysterious she had yet to solve in him. In the next moment, he let out a sigh. "Okay." He said, "D-Do you need help?"

"I think so."

She eased her weight forward while he held her back from behind. Her lower region hurt the most, but he kept his hands at the middle. The other cupped her neck as he, slowly, gently, guided her into a sitting position. His hand slid down to steady her shoulder; the other followed to hold her up. But gravity was unkind; her torso felt heavier than ever. She bit down a cry and cursed.

"I-I'm sorry, wait," he stopped, "Y-You should be laying down."

"No, no," she wheezed, "We're almost there." Nervous, he let her rest on his chest so his hands were free to reach for the pillows at the other end of the sofa. Did he realize? She was leaning on him. His heartbeat sounded like horse hooves running on the cobblestones. Castletown came to mind, the hustle and bustle filled the room. Memories of the royal knights emerged, saluting the king during his birthday parade. But, then they dissipated into nothingness. Everything was gone, dead, and sealed away by Time, who Hylia in her supposed power could never undo. All that was left was awful memories of the King, which Zelda pushed away.

"Princess," Link choked, she heard him from his chest, "Y-You're freezing."

But, she was no longer shaking. Wasn't she Hyrule. Wasn't he was the sun that warmed the grounds? In her yearning for him, she called him the Light. How true that was. She wished it could be different. That she didn't need a sun; that she could be the sun and land; that she could give him both, so he'd be happy roaming around. She bit her lip, trying not to like the feeling of his warm chest behind her. So, she buried herself into the jacket she wore, only to realize that it was his.

His long hair brushed her ear. She peeked up. His chin hung over her. The firelight rose and fell on his dear face as shifted back and forth for the pillows. His lovely mouth buckled itself as if usually did when he was nervous or focused. Funny how his lips were feminine and plump, but small. His bangs eclipsed his eyes, so he had to shake his head to swish them to the side to see. How long was his hair now? Strangler pieces fell past his collar. They moved with his muscular shoulders as he secured the pillows between his chest and her. Adjusting the two pillows, he inched away until she could lean back without him, propped up, without any pain.

"H-How is that?" He asked. So gentle.

"This is fine," she said, trying to compose herself. He was un-charastically gentle, a strange quality in a knight. His commanders hated that most in him. They tried to beat it out of him. Did he remember that?

At fifteen, she was weak for the gossip, walked the halls with open ears, and stayed long after mealtimes to get the word on the new recruits from the commanders. Maybe she did it to actually feel like she was a part of her Kingdom. But, she heard about the bathroom stalls he had to clean, the extended hours of training, the evil horses he had to saddle and shoe, and the terrible knights he was sent to room with. Later on, after The Master Sword chose him, she would learn about the day he was confronted by six other squires sent to attack him. She went through the medic's files. A concussion, a busted mouth, and a sprained ankle. He was only fifteen.

"A-Are you hungry?" He asked, jostling her from the past.

"Thank you," she said, "But, I'm okay." She expected him to do something else, tend to a task or maybe lay back down. But, instead, he pulled up a stool to the sofa and eased himself down. She found herself shocked. He averted his gaze between his thighs. She stole glimpses of Link, And, for a moment, brought on by the quaint house, she was peering in through a closed window, sealed away by time. Through the pane, Link, sitting there next to her, was not yet a knight, but instead a humble farm boy in a loose shirt. His father was still alive; his mother was not yet sick; while his dad was on mission, he was left in charge of the crops and woke up at this hour to tend to them.

Zelda followed the firelight's trail down his strong jaw and rode the line of his neck which curved into his bare collarbone. His muscular shoulders moved his back into a hunch. His arms were still so strong. What a masculine brow, yet his boyish freckles peppered his slim nose. His feminine mouth and eyes and soulful face betrayed that gruff front. He looked like he was always thinking. A fiery glow rose up on his cheekbone; the other side hid in shadow. Warm glints lit up his long eyelashes.

With crops, family, and maybe a pretty girl on his mind, had young Link ever thought about the prophecy of the Calamity? Zelda knew about it longer than she could remember. Why does a five-year-old need schooling on malice and darkness? Her father sent her to history classes and quizzed her on her research over mealtimes.

Link's mouth hung open to say something, but he nothing came. He looked away shyly. Sadness colored his deep blue eyes, cold memories of last night trickled in with the sound of rain. And, suddenly, the blanket around her felt heavier. This was the same one he had given her on the loft, wasn't it? Finishing the mission, she was so tired. Stress and pain possessed her. Why was she always taking it out on Link? Her most treasured person.

"Can you forgive me?" She needed to ask, "I ignored you when I came in today."

He didn't respond.

"I," she stammered, "I didn't know how to say hello again."

There was a long silence.

"Neither did I." He broke it. "I-I was just worried."

"Forgive me."

"O-Of course." His voice hurt her, she tried not to feel the pain. Instead, she took in the room. Blindsided, the house opened up to her. So many things she never saw when entering with the travelers. If someone asked her, she wouldn't have been able to tell them the color of the wall until now. They were tan and cozy. Parts of the stucco were crumbling away.

"Bolson didn't do the Firly Manor justice in his letter."

Link smiled. In the comfortable silence, she peered out from him. The floor was a light amber color, different from the deep, red kakarikan wood. Dark wood beams supported the corners of the house. A high ceiling stood over them; was that hail, tapping on the roof? An old fashioned chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling and dropped down into the dining space where an oak table sat. There, among books, quills, and empty bowls, a variety of candles sat. They were gifts from the travelers? That was very kind of them. She turned around to find a string of counters lining the wall behind her. Maybe that's where Link prepared the meals? Who has that over there? A person lay on the ground.

"Is that Purah?" Her insides lit up like a fire. "Is that really her?"

"Y-Yes, she wanted to see you finally," he looked over his shoulder. The woman let out a snore, "b-but, maybe not now."

"Is she giving you problems?"

"I like her problems," he smiled, "I-I need to show it more to her."

She felt like smiling too! Did she hear dripping? She had heard the dripping since waking up. "Link, is there a leak?"

"No, I," he started, "I spilled some water when putting out the fire."

He said that before, but the fire was still burning, wasn't it? She looked at the ground past his thigh. Wait, was he trying to block it? Shiny puddles on the wood reflected the small flames. An empty bucket sat, capsized in front of the hearth of the fireplace.

"Did you miss?" The wall was wet too.

"I-It was dark."

"With the fire lit?" Suspicious.

His expression swelled with regret, "I-I meant to say that I tripped."

"Tripped over what?" Very suspicious.

He checked over his shoulder as if looking for something to blame. She narrowed her eyes, looking deep into the shadows on his face. At second glance, his hair was messier than usual. Scraggly bangs fell into his eyes. A lump of bed head pulled his hair from the messy bun tied at the nape of his neck. He looked unkempt and slightly frazzled. Were those bags beneath his eyes? Had he slept? Was he sleeping alright? Pieces were coming together.

"Link," she looked up from the capsized bucket, "Were you sleepwalking?"

He looked down, his hair masked his eyes, "No, I only tripped, Princess."

She neared him, peering through the strands of his long bangs, finding his blue eyes, inspecting them for lies. He was still, staring back, his irises were pulsing. Was that fear? Was that worry? She didn't know, but he averted his gaze. He was a horrible liar. "You were sleepwalking."

"I was sleepwalking."

"You really were?"

"I was." He got up.

She tried to follow him, but he put out his hand to stop her. "Sleepwalking just now?"

"B-Before you woke up. I-I think I was trying to put out the fire." He watched the dancing flames.

"In your dream?

He nodded, busying himself with a pile of towels on the bench of the dining tables.

"Do you usually dream when you sleepwalk?"

"Uh," he paused. He took a towel to the floor and began wiping up the puddle. "Sometimes."

"What do you dream about?"

He fell still and looked up from the ground as if he wanted to say something. But he looked down. "I don't remember."

A silent moment passed.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"Has this been happening a lot?"

He shook his head.

"How do you know?"

"I-I've been falling asleep and waking up in the same place." He paused, bit his lip, and thought for a moment before sitting back down.

"Does it scare you?"

There was a long pause. She didn't know what he would say,

"I just don't want to lose trust."

"With me?" There were two sides to Zelda, competing for Link's attention. The first was The Monarch in her. She was strong and witty; stood with a tall back. The character was brave, spoke cleverly, could drive a bargain, and couldn't be doubted. She wanted Link to see that person.

"Y-Yes, you." He said. He buckled his mouth, but then let it go, "I-I want to be your knight."

But then there was the little girl drowning in the shadows of the monarch. She was so small and frazzled. Zelda hated the thought of her. But the girl's strength to crawl out from beneath the shadow was beyond the monarch's to keep her back. That character reached out for Link with small, shaking hands yearning for the warmth. The image made Zelda think about the first morning free from the belly of the beast. The sun was rising, rosy oranges and vivid reds dabbed the wooden wall across from her bedroom window. Her body was so weak, but she pushed herself from her bed, opened the shutters, let the sun in, and cried.

"Y-You can be whoever you want, Link."

He rose to his feet and set the damp towel on the rack by the fire. His back was to her. He hid his face.

"Are you okay?"

There was a long pause. "Th-There's so much that I don't know." He massaged the towel's fringe, "I-I'm sorry that I don't even know how old I am."

"There's nothing to apologize for."

He tried to smile, but it never reached his eyes. "H-How old am I?"

"Y-You're seventeen. Eighteen at the end of Spring."

"I was born in the end of Spring?" He sounded amazed.

She nodded, so happy.

"Seventeen." He turned, "The s-same as you?"

"You always seemed older."

"I'm younger than I thought."

"How old did you think you were?

"A-At least one-hundred years old."

She laughed! "I know! How do we tell people?" Too loud! Purah stirred! Shoot! Did she wake her? The scientist let out a snore and turned on her back, still asleep. They were safe. Link pressed his finger to his mouth, smiling.

"Time has screwed us up," he whispered.

"You're one-hundred and seventeen." She mused, happy by the feeling of laughing with Link. Who would have thought? "Link?"

His kind eyes fell on her as he sat back down.

"Do you like it here?" She said, feeling so comfortable.

"It's nice, but there are things I miss." He looked hesitant, brows up, shoulders high. He sped into the next question. "H-How about Kakariko? How is the paddy field?"

"Well, we've had an easy time flooding it with the water running off from the mountains."

"Welcome to the source of it!"

"Has it stopped raining?"

"J-Just yesterday afternoon."

"Just an afternoon?"

"Just an afternoon."

Somewhere deep inside of Zelda, the child stood in the sunlight with her arms wide open.


	9. How Many Beasts Can You Take?

**Author's Note:** My over-achieving promise to post this on Tuesday lingered over me like a boss, dreading the extra time I take to get things done. It's late, but I hope this small chapter finds you well. I originally wrote it as the second chapter to this story, but I quickly realized that I didn't want to tell this story chronologically. See you this Tuesday for Chapter Four!

* * *

How Many Beasts Can You Take?

When the Princess of Hyrule visited the Shrine of Resurrection, she intended to study the Ancient Sheikan written in the walls. She tried to explain it to Dorian, but Dr. Calip kept interrupting her, making it seem like the old Sheikah was beyond teaching. His patience dwindled, but the Princess drew him pictures. The ancient technology still worked as it had one-hundred-years ago. The Princess wanted to study it in hopes of using it for Hateno. It was all smart n' stuff, but she looked at the blue traces in the wall in a funny way: full of longing and regret. She looked more alive here, but also deeply hurt. She often sat in the chamber where Link slept. This was her workspace for the week.

Her research demanded an extra day of work that they couldn't afford, so she decided to cut the study short. That night at the campfire, after a young sheikah finished a song on the fiddle, she proposed that the party leave in the morning to beat the rain. The Hylia river was already flooding, wasn't it? Weird weather. They departed early the next morning.

Enroute to Kakariko, Dorian was leading the line of horses and mules when a gust of wind caught his hat. He held it down. What a gusty day. Fat, gray clouds swirled overhead and overflowed the headlands of the Sahasra Slope. They would need to cover their supplies with banana leaves before their ascent. Behind them, like a sober giant awake in the mist, the blackened husk of the Hyrule Castle sat lonely and peered on from afar. The Princess kept her nose in a book on Ancient Sheikah Archeology.

"Princess, the mist cleared. You can see the castle." Said the guard.

She didn't look up. Instead, she let out an honest sigh, "I can't do it, Dorian."

"No?"

"It was your home, isn't it?"

"I'd rather not think about it." She bunched her reins in one hand and held them out to the guard, "Dorian, can you take my reins? I need to take notes on this." She laid the book against her navy traveling trousers and retrieved a worn, sheep-hyde journal and a quill from her saddlebag.

He took her horse in tow, shaking his head. In the beginning of the trip, he had told her not to work and ride, as if she was one of his own daughters to scold. 'Dorian,' he still remembered that low tone in her voice. He got a direct hit from the eyes. Her countenance was vulnerable enough to draw him in, but sharp enough to slap him around and drive her point, 'I know you say this to protect me, but I've got one-hundred years of controlling beasts under my belt. If a horse bests me and I fall, then I will learn not to be so proud.'

He knew the legend of the Princess of Hyrule, but never would he have imagined that the firm, solemn gaze on such a pretty-young face could feel so commanding. Scary. His insides were both swimming and solidifying, making a vulgar man like him shape up, let out a breath, and salute. He could hold her reins.

They approached the Horwell bridge where the river swelled high from the wet winter and gushed between the rotting wood.

"It's higher than last week," he commented. The Princess looked up from her books.

"Look!" Someone said, "Fish! Their practically on the bridge!" A bow shot into the river.

"Save your equipment!" Shouted Dorian. Children! Young sheikah will shoot at anything.

They traversed the bridge. Between the splashes and clunking of hooves against the sunken bridge, the Princess's pinto gelding slid and picked up a nervous shuffle.

"Easy boy," the Princess tried to comfort him, but its breath blew up his chest! No, it didn't like the water. The horse fought for its head, yanking against Dorian's hold on the reins. The Princess secured her books back into the saddlebag and took the horse's mane in her grasp. She closed her free hand around the top of the spilling ink.

"Easy," soothed she, "Calm down." While holding the horse's mane. She let the quill fall into the wake of the spooked horse! Backing up, the horse kept waving its head and let a hoof slip from the bridge! Snort! Fright rose up in the horse!

"Hey!" Called the Princess. It jutted forward to save itself, thrashing and bucking through the current. She released the ink! Both hands broke for the gelding's mane! She spewed out a silent curse. Angry, the horse flipped his body back, trying to spin against Dorian's hold in anxious circles.

"Hold on Princess, he's not happy!" The horse flipped its ear back! Yanked itself free! Tantrum! Snort! Up went his two front hooves! Smack! Zelda's hand slapped its neck! She choked its barrel between her thighs! The horse went coughing! She clung to its back, keeping her torso low, her brows furrowed in fiery frustration, preparing for it to rear. But, then he bucked!

The horse dumped the Princess over its head! Next thing Dorian new, she was scrambling through the water! Gasps screamed louder than the rapids! He ran through the rearing and kicking of hooves to cover her, but she was already on her feet. She pushed passed him and charged the angry horse.

"Calm down!" She smacked its neck and lunged for his reins. Fists clenched on the leather, knuckles white, she yanked his head down until it's anxious muscles swayed to a stop. The splashes cleared to reveal the two panting adversaries, eye to eye, both angry with one another.

"Let's take a break." Were her last words before dragging the horse across the bridge. She plopped off the horse and went at its girth at its belly, which tethered the saddle to the horse's back.

"My Princess?" Dorian beat the royal party to her, "Princess, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"It's fine." She was quick to say. "My notes from the Shrine are still dry. If they tumbled into the water with me, then I'd call it your fault." She tried to smile in the jest. He wanted to laugh, but she still seemed angry. Her eyes laid bare against the girth; her brows furrowed; she buckled her mouth while something like rage cleared from her expression. She let the girth swing out and liberated the horse. It tried to nip her, she smacked its mouth.

She had withdrawn the saddle when the small crowd came cooing, bowing in reverence, and moping in high-strung concern. One retrieved her books while another dove into the water for the lost quill! Dorian stood by.

"Can you cool the horse down in the water?" She gave another sheikah the reins, "I need a moment." She half-turned, pulling the saddle to her chest. Beneath it, rich ink blotted out the bust of her tunic. Her hands dripped black. "Take a rest, everyone." She said over her shoulder, "We will start again in twenty minutes. Let's get the tarps over the packs before we leave."

"That was amazing, Princess." Calip stood in the way.

"Getting thrown off a horse is amazing, Dr.?" Dorian let her leave.

"She wasn't afraid."

She took her next step in pain. She tried to hold her back. But, the saddle weighed her down.

Dorian caught up to her. "Something wrong with your back, Princess?" She gave him her saddle.

"It's just sore." She said. "My pride is a bit hurt. But, I'll be okay."


	10. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Happy Tuesday, everyone! Funny, I've been forgetting to switch my accounts when reblogging posts on the tumblr page. My idea for the blog was that it would be all original work, so I had to delete the masses of great Zelink artwork. But, I decided to keep one post: it's an elderly lady with a gun with a funny caption. I won't spoil the surprise, so check it out! (Because that old lady is me) Before we begin, some shout outs: Thank you for the birthday wishes, guest! Thank you for following the story. I take it as a birthday gift! Oracle of Hylia, I keep trying to tell Zelda not to be so stubborn, but alas *throws up hands* See you guys September 24th. If you guys are liking the weekly posts, let me know. I have a few ideas for some mini-stories.

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Chapter Four

Link's mind was like a cave: hollow, deep, and mysterious. Darkness shaded each quiet cavern: he couldn't see inside. Although echoes of people, names, and faces reverberated off the walls, he couldn't follow them to memories. So, the Princess's words sat with him like calm waters, drowning the rocks and edges of mystery: he was seventeen. He repeated the fact to himself, as it made him feel real. Human.

He couldn't stop smiling. Happy, he stumbled into the storage shed annexed to his house in back, looking for more hay for the pillows and bed. But, instead, he found a small, circular tub lying beneath firewood he had walked past for weeks. With a sudsy rag, he now scrubbed away the dust and grime until the silver surface began to shine. Faint traces of his features reflected back; he chuckled, incredulous to how young he was. He had looked into mirrors before; not for long, but never truly stared. But, now he couldn't stop looking at all signs of youth: his smooth skin, the pigment of his face, the freckles on his nose, and the width of his eyes. Truthfully, he never noticed.

He lifted the tub and flipped it upside down so the basin could sit on the post of the pasture fence. He'd let the rain rinse the suds; drizzles dappled his hair. Epona, hiding beneath the apple tree with Dorian's and the Princess's horses, nickered and trotted over. The others followed. Curiosity lit up their eyes, but they turned away when he offered no treats. Link pat their necks instead. Just when the royal white horse neared him, his worry for the Princess reawakened.

Worry sometimes felt like the ghosts from his dreams, walking just behind him. Had he seen one last night by the fire? The Princess saw him. Ah, how embarrassing. But, at least it gave him a chance to talk with her. To be by her side. To tell her how he wanted to be her knight in spite of the sleepwalking. Worries went up again. He felt the ghost of them following him to his house. Like always, he heard nothing. He turned around, but nothing was there. Yet, thoughts that came to his mind were so foreign: a war came into mind, but it wasn't his own. Ashes fell from the air like it had during the Great Fairy forest fire. He was in the eyes of someone, whistling on an instrument, running towards a man on the ground. The blood stuck with him.

He turned his focus to the door of his house and drew it open. The heat of the fire was as thick as a hot breath, greeting him inside. He dug his hands into his pockets; his fingers began to thaw.

His company hadn't moved. Purah, on the stool, ran tests on the Princess's back on the sofa. "Princess, I know you've never been good with horses, but you're saying a horse messed up your back?"

The Princess shivered from the sofa, hunched over a document: the report of the ride in. "I am saying that it started with the horse." She looked up from her notes, "What do you mean I've never been good with horses?"

"Princess, it doesn't have to be a secret."

"Link?"

He froze.

"Am I a poor equestrian?"

"That's unfair!" Purah pointed his way, "He doesn't remember!"

The Princess laughed. This was nice. This was really nice. Calm contentedness settled inside Link. Link couldn't help laughing too.

"Link! Don't laugh! She's using your memory loss to her benefit!"

The coffee kettle squealed, so he plucked it from the hook on the fireplace and filled up three cups of coffee grinds, which Purah brought from the lab. He poured out the rich brown flow, letting the steam melt his icy ears, and filled four cups. The last belonged to Dorian, who took the Princess's checklist for the day. Was he still with the travelers across the bridge? No smoke rose up from their chimneys, as they were supposed to lie low until the other nomads arrived from Fort Hateno.

With a coffee cup heating his frozen fingers, Link made his way upstairs and stopped at the windowsill where he chose to sit. He leaned against the pane. Cold moisture licked his back and seeped into his tunic. Looking out from the window, he saw Hateno looking different somehow. But nothing struck him as different. The seasonal fog rolled off the grassy hills of the Firly Manor as it had all morning. In glimpses, Link saw the feet of the mountains. Clouds shrouded Mt. Lanayru, so he couldn't see the top. But, they felt bigger. The vibrant green grass, blowing in the wind, looked inviting. Like he could sprawl upon it and be as happy beneath the breeze. He pondered the change. Was it his perspective of himself? Not an ageless ghost trapped in a realm one-hundred-years-too-late, but a seventeen-year-old with a new day to live. Life started today. How would seventeen-year-old villagers spend it? Could he and the Princess do the same? The clanging of pots and pans stole his attention. Purah started lunch, so he went down the stairs to help.

Tulin, the young, Rito messenger, arrived shortly after lunch with a letter from Impa. For a moment, everything felt happy: people asking him about the trip up. He was so excited to see the Princess again, and she wrapped him in a happy embrace. But then, she realized what he possessed: a letter to her in Impa's handwriting. They opened the letter when Dorian returned. The sheikah read it aloud, " _Dear Princess and others, thank you for writing to me about the frightening circumstance. Alarmed for the Princess health, I am writing back at my earliest convenience and hope this letter will reach you sometime in the afternoon if Tulin flies a straight path."_

"When did you write her, Dorian?"

"Last night, Princess."

"While I was asleep?"

"Should we have kept it from her?"

She didn't answer. "Keep reading."

Link peeked over at the Princess. She hid her mouth under her hand, her expression stern. The Shekiah read on, " _As Elder, I'd like to think I have the authority to tell the Princess and the Hero what to do. But, my age-old relationship to you both speaks louder. Princess, I ask you to stay put in Hateno until you have reached full recovery."_

" _If Dorian's description of your ailments is correct, I beg this of you, as so does your body, mind, and soul. You will need both rest and exercise. Link…"_ It stole his attention, _"I trust your tutelage and your judgment. Please adhere to the mission of making sure the Princess gets well. I suggest exercise, walks, balanced with much rest and sleep."_

"I'm not some lame pony that needs treating."

"Princess, she means to put importance of your recovery."

"I know what she means." She shot up. "She means well and it's thoughtful. But, I've burdened this town enough. I know that there are rumors of me being here, but the world thinks I'm in Kakariko. I need to be there, so let's head down the mountain as soon as possible. I'll accept treatment there." She started packing.

Dorian beat her to her coat. "Princess, you're on medicine now. But, what happens, mid-ride, when your back gives out?"

"I've been fine before!" She yanked it from him,

"Snap, Princess, consider our perspective!"

"Consider mine! There is a whole kingdom who thinks I'm in Kakariko! And there are worlds of things to do! Messages to answer! Problems to solve! Not to mention politics! I opened the gates at Fort Hateno. I don't know who was in charge of closing them, but we can bet I'll be hearing from them!" Sore, she inched her pack over her shoulder.

"Zelda," Purah stepped onto the couch to meet her eye to eye and grabbed the strap of her backpack, "We want your best interest."

"We don't have time for my best interest!" She broke away. Ump, she collided into Link's chest. "Link, excuse me!"

He tried to say something, but she pushed past him for her clothes on the coat rack.

"I-It's no trouble, Princess." He followed her. "If that's what you're worried about."

"I'm telling you all what I'm worried about!"

"Princess," complained Purah, "You're just hurting herself more! Don't you want to set a good example for Hyrule?"

"What Hyrule, Purah?" She was shouting "Because I see nothing but graves and hungry, sick people, traveling in the dark! And it's all because of me!" She shoved over the wooden drying rack. Crack! It broke into pieces on the ground.

Silence fell.

The Princess dropped to her feet, "Oh," tears fell from her eyes, "I-I'm really sorry." She plopped down and pieced through it.

Link neared to help, but she put up a hand. "I need a moment."

He stared into the cuts in her palm, wanting to know where they had come from. That was the thing about Princess Zelda. She was so composed until he looked closely. He stayed on the ground, wanting to hold her hand, but he settled for the clothes that had fallen with the rack. He picked up her sheikah jacket, black turtleneck, and muddy pants, and waited in case she turned herself around.

"Princess," Dorian broke the silence, "None of this is your fault."

"Of course it's not." She teased. "Oh, goddesses." She whimpered.

"Princess?" Link crawled in.

"Please," she wiped her eyes, "Just give me a moment."

Link drew himself to his feet, her clothes in his arms. Dorian waved him over, so he followed. "Purah," Said he, opening the door "Do you need a ride back to the Lab? I can take you there."

"Just to check on Symin. I can be here with Link and the Princess later tonight."

He nodded.

"Link, do you need anything?"

Link set her clothes in a basket of dirty rags and shirts before grabbing a wash bucket and soap. "J-Just laundry, I can do it outside." He took the door from Dorian and followed his company outside where the fog swallowed them. Taking one last look, he closed the door on the Princess. She was still piecing through the broken wood.

"Link," Dorian pulled him in closer, "You won't be too far, right?"

"Sh-Should I stay in there with her?"

"No. If the Princess needs alone time, she needs alone time."

"I-I can guard the door."

"If you're just by the pond below doing laundry, I don't think it's necessary." He looked out past the bridge and down into Firly Pond. There, a mother, not Cheri, but the other, got up from the waters with her boys. They heaved buckets of water. The youngest waved on their way out. They waved back. "They need to believe that she's leaving Kakariko tonight in perfect health. Maybe in a few weeks, when the Princess is walking, we can be honest about her staying here. But not while she's sick in bed."

The words appeased him, but a deep pain festered inside. No one should force to stay anywhere. Especially the Princess who has been forced to and from places all her life

"How long will you be by the pond?"

"N-No more than ten minutes."

"That should be fine."

Link followed Purah, Dorian, and their dapple-gray horse across the bridge and steadied the steed for them to mount.

"You okay, Link?" Purah looked down from the saddle. Caring, she was the type of person to ask that, wasn't she? He met her eyes, realizing that he liked that most about her, and tried to nod.

"Our Princess will be fine, Link. You don't need to worry." Said Dorian, before kicking the horse in a trot. Link watched them go, hoping that he was right.

When worrying felt too heavy, Link turned his attention to the basket of clothes in his arms. Most were his, mixed the Princess's attire. Her clothes were dry, but caked in mud. If he searched through them, he might find leaves and debris from last night. He couldn't remember the months on the road that they apparently spent together, but maybe it looked something like this: compiling dirty laundry and taking it to a nearby pond.

Some part of him felt like he remembered the road to Goron City. The Gerudo Bazaar too, but less so. In his mind, a light feeling, like happiness or endearment, fluttered up with the faint memory of them going up the volcano. He felt like he could remember her voice, chiding him. But, her attention felt so good. Much better than the lack of it. She was looking him in the eyes, bandaging his arm. I guess he had hurt himself.

Even in the darkness of the upcoming Calamity, were their journeys at all what it was like last night? Them talking, sharing, laughing? What made him feel so comfortable with her? That was unexpected. To sit down next to her; to confide in her about the sleepwalking; to help her sit up. Accident and poor planning had him guiding her head to his chest while he aligned the pillows between them. Did she see the heat in his cheeks? Maybe the darkness covered him. How about the beating of his heart? Although it raced, he felt so at peace oddly. He even laughed with her! When was the last time he laughed? His face had hurt from smiling. He liked the idea of her being here too much. But, he had to let it go. No one should be forced.

He made his way down the slope, trying not to slip on the spongy grass, and settled himself against the bank of the pond where fish swam from him. Rain began to fall, making ripples in the water. He scooped up bucket-full and dropped the soap into the basin so it could dissolve.

But, then a presence emerged in the fog: more than worry and fear; something far more complex. He looked up from the water. Melancholy, personified, sat beside him, piecing through the Princess's clothes. He has felt her coming all morning: darkness and desperation all lingering on notes from an ocarina. Here she was, appearing, a ghostly woman about the age of seventeen.

"H-Hello?"

"Hello." Said the spector, looking down into the soapy bucket. She laid the Princess's pants in the soapy water. Her long hair seemed to stream on forever.

"W-Who are you?" He asked.

"Loss," A moment passed, "Forgive me for not looking at you. You look too much like a friend who died trying to save me, Link."

Link nodded, baffled. "Y-You know who I am?" The world moved through her.

"I don't have much time," she looked solemn and distant, gazing at the scene. Fog rolled through her. "But, we've known you for a very long time."

"We?" He thought for a moment. A thought hit him. "A-Are you Hylia?" He stuttered.

"I am loss, an expression your Princess releases when she releases her emotions." The ghost stood in the mist and spoke in hot whisps, "We come near, but we can't get close. She won't see us."

Link was hesitant, "W-Why not?"

She hummed a sad tune, "She has lost much." A moment passed. Her voice sharpened, "Something is wrong."

Link rose his feet.

The Spector turned towards the house. "Do you know where the Princess is? I can't feel her like I do with the others."

"Sh-She's in the house."

"Are you sure about that?" She asked before falling away with the rain.

Link jumped to his feet. Was she not inside? He ran forward, kicking the bucket over in his haste! Water splashed! Soaked, he climbed up the slope and pushed through the open door.

"Princess?" It was silent. The room felt as empty as the cave within. Link called out into the hollow living quarters. "Princess!" Her travel bag was gone. Dread fell deeper into him. Did she take off? He ran out into the rain, looking in every direction! The pasture! He'd check the pasture! Was her horse gone? He sped around the house, slipping on the wet grass and scampering until he turned the corner.

"Princess!" There she was, "Princess Zelda!" She had collapsed on the ground in front of the gates: stomach against the mud, legs sprawled, arms in front of her, chin in the ground. The gates were open; the horses were gone. All that was left was him and her behind his house. She was crying.

He squatted down. "Princess?" Her horse's saddle had toppled over itself on the ground beside her.

"Don't look at me!" She pressed her forehead into the ground, her tears seeped into the mud. His eyes caught her bag of endura shrooms that had fallen from her a foot from her grasped. She tried to reach for it, but then coiled up in the pain.

He reached for it.

"No, that's mine!" She bellowed. "It's my only chance in getting back!"

Loss had him hurting. Link didn't know what to say. He tried to decide what to do: to back down or take the bag. He picked up the bag.

"No! Give it back!" She was screaming, "I'm dead to the world if I can't fix it!" She slammed her fists on the ground. Compassion swelled inside. He was seeing himself during the first few weeks of waking up, kicking and punching at nothing in the frustration and sorrow.

He crept in closer and he handed her the bag.

"What are you doing?" She wiped her eyes.

She wouldn't take it. He put the bag in front of her.

"You're giving them to me?"

He nodded.

"Why would you do that?" She sobbed into her hands.

He didn't know why. She would leave. But, she was hurting; she needed medicine. But, in getting home, she would hurt herself more. What did she want? He pushed the bag closer to her. She looked up, a tear fell down her cheek, her mouth hung open to say something, but she spoke it into her dirty hands. "Why are you like this?"

He didn't understand.

"Why are you so kind?" Mud dribble down her forehead.

He couldn't find his words. "P-Please." He opened the bag and broke off a slice of the mushroom and gave her the privacy to eat. She shook with the pain of it. When he looked over, the mushroom was gone. Her hands were on her head, tears streaming into the mud.

. It would take a quarter of an hour to kick in. So, he seated himself on the ground beside her and held out his cloak to shield off the rain from their heads. Droplets against the fabric filled the long silence. He didn't know what to say; memories of her words swirled inside his head: _give me a moment, its all my fault, dead to the world if I can't fix it._

When the healing set it, the Princess pushed her body up from the ground and brought on leg inwards. She sat up. Her cheeks were red and puffy, but dry. What would she do? Would she leave? She could find her horse and ride to Kakariko. He knew the answer he wanted. He looked into her eyes, starved for her company. Some part of him hoped for her to see that.

"I'm sorry about the horses."

"They know the w-way back."

"Do you hate me? Goddess, I'm so sorry, I need to hear the truth."

No, absolutely not! He crawled closer to her, shaking his head. He wanted to caress her muddy cheek, but he kept his hands on his shoulders.

"W-We can direct all your work here. Tulin can fly the mail."

"You guys do too much. You guys aren't my servants."

"W-What if w-we want to be?"

"I want to serve you all. Not the other way around." She felt her spine, "the medication runs out so fast."

"Can you stand?"

She nodded, weakly rising to her feet. She stood above him, her eyes were locked on the distance.

"What will you do?" Said he. "You have a bed here." He stammered, "Purah is great company." He went on, "And, I," He stopped, not knowing what to think of himself.

A moment passed. Something inside her hurt. She didn't say yes, she didn't say no. That thing inside her wouldn't let her decide. Weakly, the words fell from her mouth, "Can you help me get inside?"

He scrambled to his feet and took her weight from her. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Her body was stiff, she let out a painful breath. Link took her waist as he had earlier that morning and waited for her cue to go. She nodded. Step by slow step, Link walked her around the house, delighting in the weight of her hanging on his neck. Fog rolled around them until they came into the view of Hateno just beyond the bridge. For just one moment, the top of Mount Lanayru peeked out from the clouds, a giant's eye in the clouds. But, then it was gone. She wouldn't look at it. "Let's go inside."

But then, Purah appeared beyond the bridge. Link looked to the Princess to see what action she would take: to hide; to pretend like this never happened? She was a mastermind of appearances. But, the Princess was still. They watched her run over. Purah gasped at the mud on her knees, thighs, and torso.

"Snap! Did something happen?" She looked between them.

"I'm sorry, Purah." The Princess said, fumbling, "I made a mistake. I'm sorry for the way I've been acting towards you all." She let out a teary breath, "I love you guys so much, but sometimes I don't think and-"

"Zelda." Purah wrapped her arms around her waist. The Princess hugged back. "My reckless Zelda, it's okay." Zelda. Just Zelda. He juggled her name in his head.

"We won't tell Dorian." Purah whispered.

The Princess hummed, trying to smile.

Link led them into the warm house where the fire was still burning. Purah went in first. Whimpering, the Princess hung on his neck as they crossed the foyer for the sofa. He hoped she could sit down.

"I'll get the sofa muddy." She said. Link thought of her clothes, which he left by the pond, still soaked. In the chest in his room, there was the champion's tunic and a long sleeve shirt with a Hylian-designed collar. Would those fit? The downside to her staying here would be the lack of clothes he could provide her. She would need new ones from the market.

Purah laid down a towel before he eased her down on the cushion, "It's fine." He smiled. The tub washed and cleaned from this morning, LInk then got the basin from the pasture, dragged it in front of the fireplace, and doused the basin with hot water. Steam slithered up from the bath and filled the house.

"L-Let the water cool for a moment." He said. "I'll go to the market, s-so take this time to bathe." He turned around to assure the Princess, but got caught up in her demeanor: no longer powerful, strong, and chuckling like her usual self. Now, she was hunched over, standing awkwardly, staring into the basin, one hand around her waist, the other grasping her elbow.

She looked up shyly, "Thank you."

Now, he was shy. "Y-You're welcome. If anyone knocks," he stammered on his way out, "D-Don't let them in."

"You got it, Mr. Protection." Purah winked, taking the Princess's muddy coat. "Snap! I get the Princess to myself!"

"Link?" the Princess whispered. Her voice was hoarse.

He peeked his head in the door. "Yes?"

Stiffly, she made her way to him until they stood eye to eye.

"I-It's really no trouble, Princess." He whispered.

She wrapped her arms around him. Surprise colored his cheeks. He felt her fingers clutch the back of his cloak, the heat of her mouth burned at his collar bone; her temple lay against his neck; he leaned into it. The smell of her hair distracted him from Purah who nodded from afar, a satisfied scientist observing her subjects. Brave, he wrapped his free arm around her waist.

"I love you, Link." She said, voice muffling against his cloak. When she released him, he searched her eyes incredulously, but only found himself in them. They were glossy and shaking, but calm with peaceful satisfaction. Confidence, independent of his returning feelings, turned up the corners of her mouth.

Time sped up. She handed him his bag. He looked down at her hands clasped around the brim. He didn't realize he had dropped it. Neither could he place how he got outside the house, whether the Princess escorted him out or he walked out on his own, but here he was, blinking at the distance.

"Princess!" He heard Purah inside. "What did you say to him?"

She loved him? He spun around for the door. Wait a second! The dark brown wood stopped him. Hand on the handle. Wait, no. She's probably changing for the bath! He spun around to the hills that teemed in ghostly mist and felt the urge to thank it! She loved him? He leaned against his house, letting the damp stones cool him down. Why did he feel surprised?

The walks, the care, the concern, she brushing his hair from his eyes, the letter and its words. There was so much love in all of it. It wasn't a secret. It wasn't something new to realize. But to hear it? Oh, he felt himself crumbling. The wind blew up! Excitement and questions swirled around him like leaves caught in the flurry. He drew up his hood and sighed, trying to snuff out the fluttering feelings that felt so boyish. Seventeen, or one-hundred and seventeen, he was getting far from boyhood.

He patted his face. She loved him. He loved her too. Did she know that? Did she want him to say it back? She just smiled and gave him his bag. Could he say it back? She's the Princess. Was it a shame to love the Princess? Absolutely not. So many people did. Why was he so shy? Reliving the feeling of her arms around him took away his sight; he found himself outside the grocers without memory of how he got there. When was the last time someone hugged him? He didn't know. He both loved it and feared it.

Sounds of the market came to ear. It looked busier than usual. There were new stands and traveling merchants with booths secured on the ground. Townsfolk and travelers were laughing and trading; he couldn't help, but credit it to the work of the Princess.

He visited the clothing shoppe in the center of town. Its keeper winked at him when he picked up a gray dress to inspect. "For a lady of yours?" Said she. Link didn't know what to say, but any hesitation may get suspicious. So, he helped her answer her question and nodded.

"That's a real shame." She hummed, "I know a buncha galls who will be heartbroken." Bunch? He didn't know how to respond. So, he smiled and pretended to focus on the options.

"I'm not tryin' to be weird." She joined him, "Let's pick out clothes that would make them dames jealous. Is she the delicate type?"

He shook his head and chuckled, "I don't think so."

The shoppe keeper helped him pick out a string of tunics: one gray, one brown, and one mauve. She thought the black vest he had bought was too butch, so she threw in a light blue shawl for free. After buying two pairs of pants, one tan, one black, he readied his batch to check out. But, the innkeeper wouldn't let him leave without the dark pink dress hanging behind the door. She didn't like dresses, he recalled. But, this one was durable and modest: long, to the ankles, with a small slit up the shin for movement. Two pockets, each sealed with an age-brown button, sat it the hips.

"S-She doesn't like dresses."

But, then the shoppe keeper halved its price. Humbly, he added it to the load.

Halfway out of the market square, Link noticed a stand of books he had never seen before. Its keeper stood underneath an aged umbrella.

"Hello, sir." The man tipped his wide-brimmed hat. "I'm the book trader." The man tossed him a book. Link caught it and read the title. _"Hateno Poetry: Musings of the Mountains."_

"Can you read the title, lad?" The man said.

"Hateno Poetry."

"So you read?"

Link nodded.

"Where did you learn to read?"

He didn't know. He lied, "My mother taught me." But was that true?

"I thought my business was doomed in this village. No one seems to read." Said he. It was a hardcover book, big and weathered. Its teal-color reminded him of the clothes the Princess used to wear, one hundred years ago. She loved poetry.

"A-Are you a traveler?" Link asked.

"Just arrived this morning."

"W-Where are you staying?"

"I'm claiming the first of the trees with my hammock and shelter."

"There's an inn up the road."

"A little out of prince range if you ask me.".

Had the prices changed? They were usually cheap. Much cheaper than the Kakariko Inn. Sometimes, he had to pay for Dantz when he got too drunk to walk home.

"What do you think of taking that book there for thirty rupees?"

Link handed the money and flipped through the book on his way home. There must have been a thousand poems lined up between covers. It had an earthy smell. Would the Princess like it? He closed it when he got to the front door. Butterflies flapped through his stomach. She loved him? He let out a breath and took up the stance of a knight, shoulders back, chest out, ready for anything. Purah's voice came out from behind the wood.

"Ummm," she teased, "Who is it?"

"Link."

"There are so many Links in the world these days. You could be an imposter. How can you prove that you're our Link?"

The words "Our Link" warmed him. He heard the Princess chuckling. He smiled, "Purah, l-let me into my own house."

"Are you up for a question?"

"Just one," he set down the pack.

"What's your favorite thing to eat?" She said, "The Princess seems to know. But, I don't know if she's right."

"C-Curried skewers." He pondered, "Chicken noodle soup."

"Vegetables?"

"S-Sauteed?"

Purah opened the door. "Well, damn Princess, your right." Warmth greeted him. An aroma of garlic, pepper, and salt filled the room. The smell of his favorite meal wafted the room. His stomach grumbled.

"Y-You made dinner?" He said, looking between them gratefully. The Princess sat at the sofa, clean. Her wet hair draped down her back in a tight braid. Her nose was read. She was wearing the Hylian tunic with the chestnut blanket tied around her waist to make up for the wet pants that now hung on the hooks of the fire.

"I did." Purah stirred the soup, "Don't worry, I made the Princess sit down after the bath. And, don't sound too happy. I used your ingredients anyways."

"You-You didn't need to do that." He was bashful. "H-How did you know?" He set the bag down by the Princess. He'd open it for her to see.

But, she tried to get up, "I can manage setting the table."

"Sit down Zelda!"

"Don't worry, Link, we can call her that when she's being a pest."

"You can not!" She muffled a smile. "Is there at least something I can do from here?"

"No!" Purah shouted.

"Yes." Link whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Yes?" Purah eyed him. Link opened his pack and drew out the blue book of poetry. Purah scurried near and went through the rest of his purchases.

"Link? Did you get her clothes too?" She pulled out the dark pink dress. "This is lovely! Snap Link!"

He tried to hide his embarrassment. "There are pants and tunics in there too," he whispered shyly. "The seamstress halved the price, and well."

"Princess! Put this on!" She threw it on her.

"I can't set the table, but I can try on dresses?"

"Yes! Do it. We will look away."

"Purah," the Princess blushed, "You and I need to establish some boundaries!"

"Ha, good luck! Link tried to as well. And, here I am, stealing his ingredients."

"I'm a Princess." She laughed.

"You're a seventeen-year-old girl."

"Almost eighteen."

"Eighteen," Purah beamed.

"What's that Link?" She pointed to the book in his hands.

"I-If you're looking for something to do," He handed her the book, "M-Maybe you could read to us while we set the table."

"Yes," she took the book, "That I can do that."


	11. Hold Me Up

**Author's Note:** I thought it would be helpful to create a chronological list of where the chapters fall. Today's our eleventh, but it's second in the series. 1: the House, 2: Hold Me Up. 3: The Fire 4: Surprise, 5: Composure, 6: Chapter One, 7: How Many Beasts Can You Take?, 8:Chapter Two, 9: Chapter Three, 10: Bucket Full of Water, 11: Chapter Four.

Thank you for reading the story up until now. It's been a great pleasure to write for Link and Zelda, and incorporate those small, soft, meaningful moments that we tend to overlook in our own day to day lives (Thank you Meyssa for your encouragement). I still have a lot to learn about writing, but I hope this story about home and homeliness had made you feel at home in yourselves, whoever you are, where you are. I plan to continue this story after a **month and a half break.**

Before I sign off, I wanted to express openly how much I have healed in writing this story. Going through my own stuff, I would write Link and Zelda as reflections of who I wanted to be and how I wanted to handle my issues. Zelda, crying in the dirt, choosing for herself the healthier option (to stay in Link) is a reflection of what I want for myself (minus the mud). Link taking in the loveliness of others and caring for their needs is also who I want to be. On this project, I realized that writing their characters gave me practice in building my own character. After a morning spent writing, I had shaped that character. I hope to practice it more during this break.

During the break, I will be making costumes and going to LA Comic-Con (just cosplaying! someone teach me how to be an artist for conventions) with my fiance, who inspired me to write this story. I have always wanted to do Zelda cosplays, but my fiance's height makes a very tall Link: 6'4. *Oh well* We are doing a mash-up of BOTW and Princess Mononoke. Make our day and come say hi. Until November, check out the tumblr page for more art!

Update (11/22/19): Haitus extended until further notice. Thank you for your patience, fellow Zelink fans.

* * *

Hold Me Up

From atop Epona mid-gallop through the Kakariko pass, Zelda heard Link whimper in the saddle in front of her.

"Link?" she caught her breath in the icy, winter wind. But, he didn't say anything. "Link!" She tried again, "is it your wound?" His eyes hung over his shoulder as if he was about to say something, but Epona was going too fast and his breath got caught up in the wind. So fixated on the features, Zelda beamed with an inner warmth that flickered from a fire inside, which she had protected after all these years. What love and familiarity all wrapped up in a friend in the saddle before her! It was him! She couldn't believe it. She almost smiled. But, then his eyes dilated; the blue skies turned to clouds.

"Link?"

Suddenly, his composure fell out from his shoulders; his body went like water in a wave, crashing off the left side of the saddle! Something like a scream jumped out of Zelda's throat. She seized his waist, reliving the horrors of the Great Fight! Its curse was following them! Burying her face into his back, she felt warm liquid seeped through the fabric of his shirt and knew it was blood. Snuffing traumatized tears, she bit her lip and dug her thighs into the belly of the horse to keep them balanced. Him in her arms, Zelda reached forward for the reins and clasped them against his chest, yanking Epona to a harsh halt.

Epona's gate broke! She teetered into a stumbly trot with fearful and frustrated, impulses to kick! "Woah!" Zelda tried to calm the horse. The horse threw her head with a mighty snort. Zelda drove her in soothing circles when Link suddenly huffed from underneath her chin.

"I n-need you to h-h-hold me up." He spoke it like a silent plea. He tried to lean forward; blood rushed her white dress. She held him back.

"Just lay here." She felt like crying. "Just lay here." After all this time, was she going to lose him too? She palmed the gash in his side desperate to keep it from gushing.

"We a-are a-almost there." He looked back, looking for assurance. She searched his eyes for strength, but there were only facades: faith and determination, made to look so convincing. Desperate, she threw the reins over their bodies and clasped them in tight bond before driving Epona forward.

"Hang onto me!" She yelled, tears spilling in the speed. "I'm going to get us there!"

How she got there and how long it took wasted away with the hot pumping blood, Link gasping against her neck. She blew through the sheikah gates! People were shocked, lanterns were dropped, and the critters of twilight scurried away. The pair collapsed in front the guards outside Impa's house. They ran over. Did they know him?

"Link?" They screamed, "Is that Link?" They pounced on him like fathers saving their child from drowning.

"What happened? What happened?!" Screamed the first.

"He took a dark blast to the side!" She pressed her ear to his chest and wiped her eyes, hearing the heartbeat. One lanky guard ran to alert others; a bystander went for Epona who was running in circles around them. The first guard dove in and tore through the champion's tunic with a knife. Blood gushed out from his side.

"Dammit!" The guard examined the gash; a gorge in Link's body., "Cado! Where's Cado?"

Cado, the guard, came back from Impa's house with a cluster of people. She starred up at them coming down the wooden structure bore into her. The house bore into her: an old giant peering at her as she felt so small. The same wooden beams. It almost looked unchanged. It hit her. She was really in Kakariko, only one-hundred years later.

"Dorian! The nurse is asleep. We're sending Rola to wake her."

"Cado! There you are! We need to cauterize this thing!"

Link groaned in pain on the ground. Zelda dove for his hand and squeezed it.

"Miss, you said it was a blast?" Dorian, the guard, was practically yelling in the anxiety. His hands picked grass and dirt from the wound.

"Link nodded, wincing at the pain.

"We thought we could make it here for treatment." Zelda lifted his head on her knee as he whimpered. "But," ah there were the tears again.

"What kind of blast was it?" Dorian's eyes swiveled up to address her, but then they stayed; they froze; they widened. His mouth dropped. His stern, gruff face melted in giddy disbelief. He needed no words. By the look in his eyes, he knew who she was."My god."

Dorian exploded! "LINK MY BOY! YOU DID IT!" He shook Link's shoulders! "YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT!" Like the first bird to sing before dawn, the guard then stood up and screamed out into the open glen. With his voice, there was the excitement of one-hundred years of anticipation and the glorious sound of victory after so many years of darkness "OUR BOY DID IT!" He yelled from his big belly. "Rola, Cado, Lasli, wake everyone up!"

A weak smile flickered from Link. The guard embraced them both! "Princess Zelda, excuse my informality. It's just," the man blubbered hot tears down his rosy cheeks, "Seeing you free means we all are free."

She choked on teary laughter.

.A mad frenzy of sheikah poured into the glen floor. Guards held the dozens back while nurses with wicker boxes of tools swooped in Zelda caressed Link's face in her worry. He curled against her knee; breath went heavy, then stopped.

"Link?" Her soul filled with dread. He wasn't responding. "Link!" She pressed her ear to his chest. "No, no, no."

Dorian seized her from the ground and embraced her, drawing her to her feet. She tried to break away from him for Link, but he pulled her away for air. The nurses swallowed him.

"I need you to breathe."

Zelda tried.

:"This is Link, Princess Zelda. He's going to be okay. Do you believe that?"

She couldn't look away from Link.

"Do you believe that, Princess Zelda?" He shook her shoulders.

She nodded. So he ran her back to ground zero where Link layed, almost lifeless, head back on the ground. No mind for prestige or disposition for grace or confidence colored her actions; all she had left was just frenzied efforts to hold the hand of a friend who lay dying on the floor. Zelda took it and kissed it. His fingers fluttered.

"Cover your noses." Demanded the old nurse. Her apprentice took out a glass capsule of steam. "This is an anesthetic extracted from endura shroom roots. It will put him out for a bit."

"For how long?"

"Certainly not for a hundred years," the nurse giggled.

Link squeezed her hand, then fell away into a deep sleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** A lot of uses for them endura shrooms. Just don't get carried away.


End file.
